THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
OLD HUMPHEEY'S 
 
 FEIENDLY APPEALS. 
 
OLD HUMPHREY'S 
 
 FRIENDLY APPEALS. 
 
 He was prompt to appear 
 In their woe and their weal, 
 
 With a kind-hearted word 
 And a friendly appeal. 
 
 LONDON: 
 THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY; 
 
 Instituted 1799: 
 
 SOLD AT THE DEPOSITORY, 56, PATERNOSTER-ROW, AND 
 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. 
 
ot 
 
 PBEEACE. 
 
 IT is not always that an author can find a 
 title which exactly agrees with the contents of 
 his book. My present choice, whether happy or 
 not, is at least appropriate in this respect that 
 my pieces, whatever may be their subject, all 
 contain some direct or indirect appeal to the 
 reader, made in a friendly spirit. I covet more 
 to build up than to pull down ; to encourage 
 than to admonish ; but whether engaged in doing 
 the one or the other, my appeals will be always 
 found of a friendly character. In addressing my 
 reader I have spoken to my own heart, and 
 never more so than when using the language of 
 
 M316&L8 
 
VI PBEFACK. 
 
 reproof. He who would serve others with his 
 lips, should be faithful in his remarks, and he 
 who would have friends " must show himself 
 friendly/' 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pa-e 
 
 On Expecting Too Much from Others 1 
 
 On Omissions 7 
 
 The Overland Route to India . . 16 
 
 I'll Tell You How it is 31 
 
 On Entering a New Habitation 39 
 
 The Dark Cloud with the Silver Lining .... 48 
 
 The Beginnings of Evil ... 53 
 
 A Sunny Day at Malvern 59 
 
 Every Crime has its Punishment 76 
 
 The Felton Family 83 
 
 The Changing Seasons . 94 
 
 On Mental Revelry 98 
 
 On a Sprained Ankle 100 
 
 Old Humphrey on the Clearing Out of His Study . 119 
 
 Old Humphrey Out of His Way 129 
 
 Curiosities of Ancient Armour 139 
 
 The Armoury of Goodrich Court 153 
 
 The Bridal Home 162 
 
 On Overwhelming Calamities J79 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Silent Man 189 
 
 On Impressive Sights 194 
 
 On Pedigree 204 
 
 On Sunny Musings 212 
 
 On the Wonders of Our Own Times 220 
 
 On Making Others Happy 230 
 
 Critical Seasons 240 
 
 On the Little Things that Make Up the Sum of Life 244 
 
 On Making the Best of it 254 
 
 On Intermeddling 263 
 
 Old Humphrey's Remonstrance with his Fair Friends 272 
 
 On Great Works 283 
 
 A Little Gossip about a Lame Foot 294 
 
 The Muffled Knocker 303 
 
 Old Humphrey among the Nightingales .... #08 
 
 On Knowing when to Stop 316 
 
 He hit Him off Capitally 323 
 
 Sketches of Character 337 
 
 Calling and Professions . 344 
 
ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH 
 FROM OTHERS. 
 
 MY first friendly appeal to the reader will point 
 out a very common error, and one that is the fruit- 
 ful source of much dissatisfaction. Humanity in its 
 best estate falls sadly short in its fair proportions ; 
 and qualities the most opposed are often found in 
 the same persons. A verdant tree with a blastexl 
 bough, a blooming peach with a worm in it, and 
 a handsomely bound book with silly contents, are 
 all fit illustrations of the human character. 
 
 Hardly need I mention the names of Moses, 
 Job, Solomon, and David, to show that meek men 
 have their passions, patient men their repinings, 
 wise men their follies, and good men their fail- 
 ings ; for these facts are so apparent, and so com- 
 monly set forth in those around us, that they may 
 be taken for granted without our casting about for 
 proofs of their correctness. Much better will it 
 be to point out a way whereby we may be bene- 
 fited by a knowledge of these unwelcome truths. 
 
 He who has ground that is not fertile, and 
 
2 ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH FROM OTHERS. 
 
 vines which are not fruitful, should be moderate 
 in his expectations of a harvest and a vintage ; 
 and they who are aware of the imperfections of 
 human beings, should not form a high estimate 
 of their consistency ; and yet, where is there one 
 who is not preparing for himself disappointment, 
 by looking for a greater degree of consistency and 
 excellence than he is likely to find? The truth 
 is, we expect too much from others, we achieve 
 too little ourselves. 
 
 I was standing on the beach, when a stiff south- 
 wester was stirring up the billows of the mighty 
 deep. The sea ran awfully high, and the broad 
 sweeping waves, rushing on like a flood, fell over 
 in a thousand plunging waterfalls, resounding like 
 thunder. The light spray was flying in the air, 
 and the shingly shore, as far as the eye could 
 reach, was a sheet of snow-white foam. My 
 mind was moved with the dread magnificence of 
 the scene. I felt, though the floods had " lifted 
 up their voice" and "their waves," that "the 
 Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many 
 waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea." 
 
 The shore was crowded with people ; for 
 though the sea was so rough, and the wind so 
 high, the sun shone brightly, and a spectacle of 
 an arresting kind was at hand. An announce- 
 ment had been made that a trial would take place 
 
ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH FKOM OTHERS. 3 
 
 of the efficiency of various life-preservers in the 
 forms of belts, jackets, cushions, and mattresses, 
 to preserve from destruction the shipwrecked 
 mariner or passenger, when tossed about on the 
 angry ocean. Curiosity was at its height, and 
 enthusiasm greatly prevailed. 
 
 At the appointed hour a ferry-boat, manned by 
 a small party of "daring fishermen, pushed from 
 the shore, and soon one of the bold fellows flung 
 himself from the boat into the boiling flood that 
 was raging around him. Manfully did he struggle 
 with the foaming waves, now riding on the back 
 of a mountainous billow and then disappearing in 
 the trough of the sea. It was an animating 
 sight, an exciting spectacle to witness his pro- 
 longed conflict with the waves. At last, with no 
 small difficulty, he was pulled into the boat. 
 
 A second man now plunged into the angry 
 ocean, and, like his hardy companion who had 
 preceded him, borne up by his life-preserver, he 
 bravely combated the roaring deluge. I looked 
 on with increasing wonder, till, apparently ex- 
 hausted, he also was taken up into the wherry. 
 Never had I witnessed such grappling with the 
 stormy waves. 
 
 After a pause, a buoyant boat-cushion, or 
 mattress, was pitched into the water, and another 
 
4 ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH FROM OTHERS. 
 
 of the fishermen sprang after it. The billows 
 bore it from him, and I had my fears that he 
 would be lost before he could regain it ; but he 
 succeeded just as a giant wave lifted him up high 
 and flung him forward in the direction of the 
 shore. "With great exertion he depressed one end 
 of the mattress and placed his kness on it, after- 
 wards crawling higher till he was enabled to lie 
 flat upon it. Thus reclining on the mattress, he 
 rode the roaring billows, to the admiration of all, 
 till the flowing tide bore him to the foaming surf. 
 The boat then shot to the shore, and the hardy 
 crew, after pulling it high on the shingles, ran 
 into the sea to the rescue of their companion. 
 Again and again, after being flung nearly on the 
 beach, was he borne back again by the receding 
 waves. At length the mattress was laid hold of 
 and dragged through the raging surf, amid the 
 cheers of the assembled throng. 
 
 It was a spirit-stirring scene, and the beaming 
 sun, the blustering wind, the foamy surf, the 
 roaring sea, together with the spectacle I had 
 witnessed, much excited me. The object of this 
 unusual exhibition was a worthy one, that of 
 drawing public attention to the most efficient 
 means of saving life in cases of shipwreck or acci- 
 dents at sea ; and I felt as if I could willingly 
 
ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH FROM OTHERS. 5 
 
 have cast myself into the raging flood before me, 
 if thereby a struggling fellow-creature might have 
 been rescued from a watery grave. 
 
 No wonder that, under the circumstances de- 
 scribed, I should regard the daring fellows, who 
 had shown so much coolness and courage, with 
 unwonted interest. I did so, but in my intense 
 admiration I expected too much from them ; for 
 hardly had I dropped my shilling into the cap of 
 one of them, as a tribute to his intrepidity, before 
 an oath fell from his lips. It was a gratuitous 
 oath, not wrung from him by anger, nor called 
 forth by any strong emotion, but uttered in 
 reference to a common-place occurrence, and in a 
 way which told me that it was his every- day lan- 
 guage. Alas for poor humanity, how were mag- 
 nanimity and immorality, oaths and heroism, 
 great courage and ungodliness, mingled together ! 
 I walked away humbled and disappointed. 
 
 Such is the inconsistency of human nature, that 
 we always act unwisely in not being prepared for 
 some manifestation of infirmity. We should not 
 expect too much from others, whatever may be 
 their endowments and advantages. Seen in one 
 point of view, the fishermen were worthy of imi- 
 tation ; in another they were only to be avoided ; 
 and this is too much the case with us all. Hus- 
 bands, expect not your wives to be angels. Wives 
 
 B 2 
 
6 ON EXPECTING TOO MUCH FROM OTHERS. 
 
 be not unreasonable if your husbands are not per- 
 fect. Parents, bear with your children in their 
 waywardness. Children, honour your parents as 
 much as it is possible, notwithstanding their fail- 
 ings and infirmities. We should put ourselves, 
 rather than others, in the balances. It is a much 
 more profitable employment to correct our own 
 errors, than to dwell on those of other people. 
 
 But think not that in pointing out the disad- 
 vantages of expecting too much from others, I 
 would speak lightly of error, or encourage evil by 
 too readily excusing human failings. Sin cannot 
 be branded on the brow more legibly than it 
 deserves. It is a grievous thing either to do 
 what we ought not to do, or to leave undone what 
 by us ought to be performed. All should pursue 
 what is good, and avoid what is evil ; but a Chris- 
 tian is doubly bound to be humble, patient, en- 
 during, and grateful ; kind, forgiving, loving- 
 hearted, and abounding in " every good word 
 and work." The plain and simple lesson that I 
 wish to set forth in my appeal to the reader is 
 this, that we may spare ourselves much disap- 
 pointment, vexation, and sorrow ; first, by not 
 being satisfied with too little in ourselves ; and, 
 secondly, by not expecting too much from others. 
 
ON OMISSIONS. 
 
 THERE are moments when our impulses of 
 love to our fellow-men are strong within us, and 
 it is a moment of this kind with me now. I feel 
 as if I had nothing to do but to pour out my own 
 friendly emotions, to call up the same impulses in 
 every heart. Oh ! that I could write in a manner 
 so truthful, so touching, so full of kind-hearted- 
 ness, and redolent of love, that it might be as a 
 balmy breeze to my readers, awakening their 
 healthy sensibilities, so that their affections 
 might go forth to their kind, their souls magnify 
 the Lord, and their spirits mightily rejoice in 
 God their Saviour. 
 
 I will not praise the virtuous for their deeds, 
 nor blame the vicious for their misdeeds. No 
 brow shall be either branded by me, or bound with 
 laurel, for I purpose to occupy myself not with 
 what has been done, but with what has been left 
 undone. Addison remarks, " The most natural 
 division of all offences is into those of omission, 
 and those of commission." It is on the formei 
 of these that I would lightly dwell, not with ill 
 
8 ON OMISSIONS. 
 
 nature and severity, but in a spirit of forbearance 
 and tenderness becoming one very sensible of his 
 own omissions and infirmities. 
 
 Omissions are sometimes of a very curious 
 kind. A tradesman once in making a minute 
 calculation of the exact cost to him of the prin- 
 cipal article he manufactured, absolutely omitted 
 to set down the material of which the article was 
 composed. An author, in giving in one of his 
 works a somewhat particular description of a suit 
 of armour, altogether omitted the helmet ; and 
 Dr. Johnson, in the preface to his " Dictionary," 
 observes, " He that is searching for rare and 
 remote things, will neglect those that are obvious 
 and familiar. It is remarkable that, in review- 
 ing my collection of words, I found the word sea 
 unexemplified." We may marvel at the omissions 
 of the tradesman, the author, and the learned 
 doctor, and yet be in the habit of making others 
 equally extraordinary. 
 
 I remember reading of one of high connexions, 
 who stood in need of a large sum of money, to 
 enable him to compass his ends, but his aged 
 relative, from whom he hoped to obtain the 
 money, sent him a present of a Bible, requesting 
 him to read it for her sake. He went to sea, and 
 suffered great hardships for want of the money of 
 which he had been disappointed. If I mistake 
 
ON OMISSIONS. 9 
 
 not, many years passed away before his return ; 
 arid then it was, that, being led for the first time 
 to open the Bible given him by his aged relative, 
 he found bank-notes to the full amount of the 
 sum he had required. He had neglected the word 
 of God, and dearly had he paid for his omission. 
 How many an erring heart has sorrowed need- 
 lessly, and lost a treasure, by omitting to ponder 
 on the pages of Holy Writ ! Bear with me, reader, 
 if I earnestly urge you to a more diligent perusal 
 of the Bible. 
 
 Some of our commonest omissions, when we 
 reflect upon them, are most extraordinary. For 
 instance, is it not wonderful, that while we profess 
 to live arid move and have our being in our 
 heavenly Father, we should think so little of 
 him ? that while we receive all things from him, 
 we should offer so little to him ? And that, 
 though we have not one certain moment in time, 
 we should make so little preparation for eternity ? 
 Suffer me to persuade you, reader, not by way of 
 complaint, but in friendliness ; not by way of 
 reproach, but in affection, to correct these omis- 
 sions, and to think a little less of things temporal, 
 and a great deal more of things that are eternal. 
 
 It was in the middle of last summer that I 
 called on an aged and afflicted friend, who resided 
 at a distance of more than a hundred miles from 
 
10 ON OMISSIONS. 
 
 my habitation. We had a pleasant interview, 
 and his very spirit seemed to cling to me. " Put 
 me in your prayer," said he, when we were about 
 to part. " Well," said T, " and what shall I pray 
 for on your behalf: for health, for wealth, or for 
 wisdom?" "Pray," replied he, "that my sins 
 may be forgiven me." I left him, thinking much 
 of the suitability of the prayer, not for him only, 
 but for myself, and inwardly resolved to send him, 
 soon after my return, a letter full of kind-heart- 
 edness, and, if possible, of comfort. Alas ! I 
 omitted to do this. But though a letter went 
 not from me, a letter came to me, and it told me 
 that my friend had been called away from the 
 world. If, reader, you have an afflicted friend, 
 old or young, whose spirit you can cheer, and 
 whose heavenly hope you may haply brighten by 
 a letter, let me urge you affectionately, as you 
 value your own peace, not to neglect to write it. 
 The very inditing of such an epistle will do your 
 own heart good, while it may lighten that of your 
 friend ; but omit this duty, and I promise you 
 much of bitter recollection and regret. 
 
 In reading over the private papers of one 
 whom I highly esteemed, after he had entered, as 
 I humbly and heartily believed, a world of glory, 
 I met with this remark : " I have one friend who 
 does me good by his words and his deeds, by his 
 
ON OMISSrONS. 1.1 
 
 prayers and by his practice ; for come what will, 
 happen what may, he keeps pointing me to Christ 
 as the cure for all earthly evils, and the foundation 
 of all heavenly hopes." Who this friend might 
 be, I did not know ; but I did know, to my sorrow, 
 that it was not old Humphrey. I would that I 
 could lovingly impress this anecdote on the heart 
 of my reader, so that it would lead him to make 
 up for any omissions of Christian duty and kind- 
 ness into which he may have fallen. 
 
 While strife and violence are abroad in the 
 world, it is a sad omission on the part of Christian 
 people to be backward in their prayers that they 
 may be put down. Have you ever, reader, glowing 
 with love for your fellow-men, when glancing for 
 a moment on the crimes and cruelties of hateful 
 war, put up a fervent invocation to the Father of 
 mercies, that the angry hearts of men might be 
 subdued by Divine grace, and their hands washed 
 in innocency ? If you have not, let me, with no 
 lukewarm zeal, remind you of the omission. If 
 swords are to be beaten into ploughshares, and 
 spears into pruning-hooks, it is much more likely 
 that our heavenly Father will employ the agency 
 of man, than it is that he will send down his 
 winged angels from above, to perform, in this 
 respect, his holy will. Let me beseech you to be 
 in earnest in your petitions, tbat nation may not 
 
12 ON OMISSIONS. 
 
 lift the sword against nation, and that they may 
 learn war no more. 
 
 Among other omissions there are two in which 
 we are most of us "guilty concerning our 
 brother ;" we clothe ourselves, and we sit down to 
 oar meals, and sweeten our viands with the pro- 
 duce labour of the oppressed, too regardless of 
 the multiplied miseries of slavery. And we read 
 our Bibles at ease, thinking but little of the be- 
 nighted millions who know not God, and are 
 strangers to a Saviour's love. Had we more of 
 God's grace, we should abound more in brotherly 
 affection. Oh that a mighty Christian cry could 
 go up from the earth to Him that sitteth on the 
 throne of heaven, that the inhuman traffic in the 
 slave-trade, and the cruel bondage of slavery, 
 might be done away for ever, and that the heathen 
 might indeed become the inheritance of the Re- 
 deemer. Think me not too pressing on these 
 subjects, reader ; I am speaking to my own heart 
 as well as to yours. 
 
 Again and again have I smarted for my omis- 
 sions, and again and again have I made up my 
 mind to catechise myself more frequently on this 
 vulnerable part of my character. How much of 
 unnecessary sorrow and unavailing regret should 
 we spare ourselves, if we resolutely resolved uni- 
 formly to make up to-day for the omissions of 
 
ON OMISSIONS. 13 
 
 yesterday. I long to do my reader a kindness, 
 and I shall do him one, if I can affectionately 
 persuade him to look more narrowly, and re- 
 flect more practically, on the subject of his 
 omissions. 
 
 It is very possible to be very exemplary in 
 doing trifling things, while we omit things of im- 
 portance. The Scribes and Pharisees were punc- 
 tual enough in paying their " tithe of mint and 
 anise and cummin," while they " omitted the 
 weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, 
 and faith." If this was discreditable to them, the 
 same course cannot be creditable to us : away 
 with it then to the winds. 
 
 Whether, reader, you are forward or backward 
 in extending the Redeemer's glory, in correcting 
 bad habits, in reproving error, in forgiving inju- 
 ries, in promoting peace and good-will, in bestow- 
 ing alms, in encouraging the timid, and in per- 
 forming kindnesses, I cannot say ; but in some 
 of these things no doubt you have your omissions. 
 Quarrel not with me for having made out so long 
 a list of Christian duties, but remember it is not 
 more intended for your use than for my own. 
 Let us look it over with an honest intention to 
 turn it to profit. 
 
 If it be true, not only that we have left 
 undone what we ought to have done, but that 
 c 
 
14 ON OMISSIONS. 
 
 our errors of omission are manifold, as fellow- 
 sinners we should try to help each other to amend 
 them. Should we attempt to justify ourselves 
 under the plea of having done some things aright, 
 we shall be met with the word of God, which 
 says, " These ought ye to have done, and not to 
 leave the other undone," Matt, xxiii. 23. Better 
 will it be, then, to abound in humility, and not to 
 add to our omissions by neglecting the throne of 
 grace, where alone we may obtain needful help to 
 supply them, and especially the fulfilment of the . 
 gracious declaration, " If we confess our sins, He 
 is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to 
 cleanse us from all unrighteousness," 1 John i. 9. 
 
 This thought is often uppermost in my mind : 
 God is always doing good to us, why cannot we 
 be always doing good to one another? Why 
 cannot we put away unkindness, and bid welcome 
 to affection, brotherly love, and Christian-hearted 
 sympathy, so that we may "rejoice with them 
 that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep?" 
 Rom. xii. 15 ; encouraging one another in holy 
 things, and helping one another on our way to 
 heaven ? 
 
 I have now said enough on omissions ; but I 
 trust, reader, that you will neither omit to bear 
 with my wandering fancies, to listen to my 
 friendly appeals, nor to put the most friendly 
 
ON OMISSIONS. 15 
 
 construction on my remarks. If you feel as 
 kindly towards me, as I do towards you, we shall 
 both be ready to mingle together our affections, 
 our heavenly hopes, and our hallelujahs. 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO 
 INDIA. 
 
 LET me, reader, appeal to your patriotism, for 
 the Overland Route to India involves much that 
 is important to your native land. Truly may it 
 be said that it is among the great events, disco- 
 veries, and improvements which have rendered 
 the present ., century memorable. Whether we 
 regard its facilities in shortening the distance, in 
 adding to the convenience of travellers, or in 
 expediting information between England and 
 India, we cannot but admit that it has conferred 
 great advantages on the mercantile, if not on the 
 Christian world. To such readers as are at pre- 
 sent unacquainted with the subject, a familiar 
 account of the overland route will be read with 
 interest and satisfaction. It is called the overland 
 route because one part of it lies across the Isthmus 
 of Suez, a desert of sand between the Mediterra- 
 nean and the Red Sea, and this is traversed in 
 omnibuses drawn by horses. 
 
 The voyage to India, by the Cape of Good 
 Hope, in a sailing-vessel, usually occupies a 
 period of four months ; but a traveller from Eng- 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 17 
 
 land by the overland route may now reach Cal- 
 cutta in forty-eight days. The route to India 
 by the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, before 
 the present arrangements, was usually attended 
 with many delays ; but now it is rapid, and, for 
 the most part, regular. The Peninsular and 
 Oriental Company has twenty-three vessels ; the 
 greater number averaging 1,800 tons burden, 
 with engines of 500 horse-power; 100 passen- 
 gers, at least, are accommodated on each voyage, 
 and the mail-bags and boxes, 200 in number, 
 weigh about four tons. 
 
 Come with me, reader, in your fancy, on board 
 a steamer, as though we were actually fellow- 
 travellers, bound for Calcutta by the overland 
 route ; for by this means I shall make myself 
 more intelligible, and more easily explain the 
 interesting particulars I have to relate. 
 
 It is the 20th day of the month ; we have each 
 of us paid 127^. for our passage, we have parted 
 with our friends, we have slept a night at South- 
 ampton, we have committed ourselves to His 
 almighty care who has the winds and the waves 
 under his control : 
 
 His mercies, great and manifold, 
 
 From age to age endure 
 And all who humbly seek his face, 
 And truly trust his sovereign grace, 
 
 Will find his promise sure. 
 
 c 2 
 
18 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 We are on board the packet ; we have steamed 
 down Southampton "Water, taken a glance at 
 Netley Abbey and Calshot Castle, and are within 
 sight of Cowes, and Osborne House, the residence 
 of Her Majesty, in the Isle of Wight. 
 
 We cannot but go back in our fancy to days 
 gone by; for who that has wandered over the 
 Isle, and visited its hills, its downs, its chines, its 
 undercliff, and its lighthouses, can ever forget 
 them? Hardly is there sweeter scenery to be 
 found. We rank ourselves among the many who 
 have been to Brading and Arreton churches ; we 
 have mused over the graves of the Young Cot- 
 tager, and the Dairyman's Daughter ; and we 
 have listened to the lips of Legh Richmond, elo- 
 quently setting forth the love of God the Father, 
 and the grace and mercy of his Son Jesus Christ. 
 
 On goes our steamer ; we have left Alum Bay, 
 Freshwater Cliffs, and the Needles behind us. 
 On ! on ! we are skirting the Bay of Biscay, 
 where many a good ship has been laid on her 
 beam -ends, and many a mariner has found a 
 watery grave. We have passed the Burling 
 Rocks, sometimes called the Portuguese Needles, 
 and we catch a glimpse of the high ground of 
 Cintra, said to be the fairest spot in Europe. 
 Rocks, cataracts, and precipices, with palaces and 
 gardens, are mingled with convents, and cork- 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 19 
 
 trees, and mountain-moss ; and the dark green- 
 tinged orange-trees are contrasted with the pale 
 willow and the luxuriant vine. How abundantly 
 has our heavenly Father beautified the dwelling- 
 place of sinful man ! 
 
 Yonder is the mouth of the Tagus ; but the 
 Portuguese ships that used so proudly to sail 
 there are seen no more. Portugal is not what it 
 was. Truly the Lord is Governor among the 
 nations : " He putteth down one, and setteth up 
 another," Psa. Ixxv. 7. Cape Trafalgar is in 
 sight. Here it was that the French and Spanish 
 fleets were overcome; here it was that Nelson 
 fell. On ! on ! This is Tarifa, standing on the 
 southernmost part of Spam. Now we are arrived 
 at Gibraltar, one of the strongest fortresses in the 
 world ; we must here take in coals. In front is 
 the village of St. Roque, and beyond are the 
 mountains of Grenada. For seven centuries the 
 Moors held Gibraltar, and then the Spaniards 
 had the rule ; but the British flag, on the almost 
 inaccessible ramparts, now floats upon the breeze. 
 
 Again the steam is up, and we move onward. 
 Algiers is seen from the deck, once notorious as 
 the stronghold of pirates, and now a French 
 colony. Pantelaria and Galeita are passed ; we 
 are nearing Malta, with its handsome buildings, 
 castles, churches, and fortifications of all kinds. 
 
20 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 Here the apostle Paul, when shipwrecked, re- 
 ceived great kindness at the hands of the people, 
 and here he shook off the viper which had fast- 
 ened on his hand, into the fire. 
 
 On! on! We have arrived at Alexandria, a 
 place of great renown. It was founded by Alex- 
 ander the Great, and became the centre of com- 
 merce and the abode of learning. Who has not 
 heard of the Alexandrine Library ? At Alexan- 
 dria, the Septuagint translated the Hebrew version 
 of the Scriptures into Greek. Mark, the evan- 
 gelist, preached the gospel there ; and it was there 
 that Antony is said to have lost the world, and 
 that Abercrombie gained the victories that drove 
 the French from Egypt. The city is now but the 
 shadow of what it was : 
 
 Its pride and pomp are gone, its reign is o er, 
 And all its goodly glories are no more. 
 
 But though Alexandria is not the city so famed 
 as of olden time, the re-opening of the Mah- 
 moudie Canal, connecting the city with the Nile, 
 and the steamers of the Peninsular and Oriental 
 Company have greatly increased its consequence. 
 Again we move onward. 
 
 We are now on the Mahmoudie Canal, so 
 called because the sultan Mahmoud employed 
 men to clear it out, after it had been choked up 
 under the rule of the Saracens. Two hundred 
 
THE OVERLAND KOUTE TO INDIA. 21 
 
 and fifty thousand persons were cruelly set to 
 work to remove the rubbish, without implements, 
 and with only a month's food. They worked 
 with their hands, and completed the undertaking, 
 though twenty-five thousand of them fell victims 
 to toil and famine. We must now go on board 
 another steamer, bound to Cairo, for here is Atfe 
 on the Nile. 
 
 On ! on ! The sun is gone down, it is night, 
 and here is Boulac, the port of Cairo. We must 
 now leave the steamer, and prepare to cross the 
 desert. What a hubbub is made by the porters, 
 the dragomans (interpreters), and the donkey- 
 boys. Italian, English, French, and all European 
 languages are being spoken, or rather shouted at 
 once. This is a busy scene. Ladies and gentlemen, 
 merchants, travellers, and Egyptians, heavily- 
 laden porters, camels, horses, donkeys, omnibuses, 
 and vans are all in motion. On we go, along the 
 broad and sandy road, through avenues of olives 
 and sycamores. Two miles more will bring us 
 safe to Cairo. 
 
 And this is Cairo ! or, as it used to be called, 
 Grand Cairo ! It is truly an eastern scene. The 
 bold range of the Mokattan Mountains skirts the 
 city in a manner highly imposing, the mosques 
 and towers are quite oriental, and the narrow 
 streets, alleys, lanes, and bazaars excite our cu- 
 
22 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 riosity, filled as they are with hardware, leather, 
 cloth, and kabob shops. Barbers and oil-mer- 
 chants, donkeys, gorgeously trapped horses, tall 
 camels, and the veiled beauties of the harem jostle 
 against us at every step. There are no Regent- 
 streets in Cairo : but we must move on. Pas- 
 sengers by the steamers are here accommodated in 
 spacious hotels, at the expense of the Peninsular 
 and Oriental Company. "We could be well content 
 to reside a few days at Cairo, and to visit the 
 Pasha's Palace, the Gardens at Shoubra, the Pe- 
 trified Forest, and the far-famed Pyramids ; but 
 already the semaphoric, or telegraphic signals 
 placed across the desert announce the arrival of 
 the steamer at Suez, which is to convey us to our 
 destination ; we must, therefore, hasten across the 
 sultry sands to Suez. 
 
 The trading cargo, the mail-bags, and our bag- 
 gage, are all on before us ; and now hurrying into 
 our two-wheeled omnibuses, carrying six pas- 
 sengers, and drawn by four swift-footed horses, 
 we proceed on our eccentric journey. 
 
 But see, as we sally forth from the gates of 
 Cairo, the Mussulman Cemetery claims our regard. 
 Monuments of different kinds arrest the eye, and 
 many a lonely Arab is seated, here and there, in 
 silence, to receive the offerings of such as would 
 manifest their respect for the dead by acts of 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 23 
 
 charity. Thus it is, go where we will, death has 
 been there before us, speaking, as with a voice 
 from the tomb, " What is your life ? It is even a 
 vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then 
 vanisheth away," Jas. iv. 14. 
 
 Look round upon this bed of death, 
 
 And take a word of warning ; 
 Improve the light, nor leave till night 
 
 The business of the morning. 
 
 The fool, through every passing hour, 
 
 Beset with sin and sorrow, 
 Puts far away his dying day, 
 
 Though that may be to-morrow. 
 
 The wise man dares not waste his time, 
 
 Lest life and health forsake him ; 
 Where'er he goes, full well he knows 
 
 That death will soon o'ertake him. 
 
 Oh, would'st thou from the page of truth 
 
 A useful lesson borrow ? 
 Go on thy way, improve to-day, 
 
 And bless'd shall be to-morrow 
 
 The very desert itself is a cemetery, where the 
 wandering Arab and his steed, the pilgrim, the 
 camel, and the driver find a grave. As a ship is 
 sometimes called the camel of the sea, so a camel 
 is called the ship of the desert. Day after day 
 this patient drudge, with a burden of a thousand 
 pounds' weight upon his back, traverses the sandy 
 plain, with no other food than a stray thorn, or a 
 ball of paste provided by his owner. Yonder lie 
 the bleached bones of a camel, and a little further 
 
24 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 removed is the carcass of another. The vultures 
 of the desert are revelling at the banquet. Next 
 them is an Arab party resting with their camels, 
 during the noontide heat. 
 
 Post-house after post-house have we passed; 
 these are small buildings erected at intervals of 
 eight or ten miles, and here are relays of horses 
 kept for the vans and omnibuses. We are now 
 at the Central Station, where mutton, roast fowl, 
 pigeons, and pale ale are in great requisition. 
 Omnibuses, horses, donkeys, and camels are hud- 
 dled together. An Arab sheikh has just arrived, 
 a column of the pasha's cavalry is crossing the 
 desert in the distance at full speed, and yonder 
 stands the solitary acacia- tree, with no other vege- 
 tation around it, on which the Mecca pilgrims, on 
 returning to Cairo, hang a rag torn from their own 
 clothes. This is, indeed, the desert! England, 
 how dear, how delightful are thy breezy hills, thy 
 verdant valleys, and thy sheltered glades ! 
 
 The Arab horses are noble animals, and those 
 in the stables of the pasha, of the Nedj breed, are 
 what he wanted to match against the best horses 
 that England could produce. The tent of the 
 Bedouin Arab is rude and simple. It is formed 
 of felt, and is open in front and at the sides, sel- 
 dom having any divisions. An encampment by 
 moonlight has a solitary but highly picturesque 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 25 
 
 appearance. The Bedouins are dissolute and dar- 
 ing ; their hand is against every one ; and though 
 they practise the virtue of hospitality, fraud and 
 violence and pillage are the common-place at- 
 tendants of their daily career. Children of the 
 desert, ignorance has blinded their eyes, and 
 cruelty has hardened their hearts ; nor is it likely 
 that their ferocity will be subdued, till, constrained 
 by the mighty power of God, they renounce their 
 faith in the false prophet, who propagated his 
 impostures with fire and sword, and become fol- 
 lowers of Jesus Christ. 
 
 On we go, ploughing our way through the loose 
 hot sand, and looking over the wide waste that 
 overawes us with its loneliness. Post-houses are 
 left behind, and now we are approaching Suez. 
 Here is the well of Yusuf, or Joseph, though some 
 call it the well of Moses. The well is the grand 
 gossiping of the women, and there are the water- 
 bearers, with their brass, copper, or earthenware 
 vessels, of precisely the same forms as those used 
 in ancient Egypt. Arabs with their steeds, drivers 
 with their camels, and stray travellers are ap- 
 proaching the place. How striking were the 
 words of the Redeemer to the water- drawing 
 woman of Samaria : " Whosoever shall drink of 
 this water shall thirst again : but whosoever drink- 
 eth of the water that I shall give him shall never 
 
26 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 thirst ; but the water that I shall give him shall 
 be in him a well of water springing up into ever- 
 lasting life," John iv. 13, 14. 
 
 We have left the well of Yusuf, and the guard- 
 house, and we have entered Suez. This seaport 
 is eighty-four miles from Cairo, and we have come 
 from thence in fourteen hours. We have given 
 a glance at the place, and at the heavy-looking 
 house with the large verandah, once the residence 
 of Napoleon Bonaparte ; we have embarked in 
 boats, and are now on board a steamer. But are 
 we really navigating the Red Sea ? That sea near 
 which the children of Israel encamped ? ' ' Before 
 Pi-hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea over 
 against Baal-zephori ?" Yes ! this is that very sea 
 that, obedient to its almighty Maker, drew back 
 to make way for the people of the Lord : 
 
 On either side the waves in order stood, 
 Aud Israel pass'd in safety through the flood. 
 
 And yonder it was, on the further shore, that 
 Moses and the children of Israel sang, " The Lord 
 is a man of war : the Lord is his name. Pharaoh's 
 chariots and his host hath he cast into the sea : 
 his chosen captains also are drowned in the Red 
 Sea. The depths have covered them : they sank 
 into the bottom as a stone. Thy right hand, 
 O Lord, is become glorious in power : thy right 
 
THE OVEELAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 27 
 
 hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy," 
 Exod. xv. 36. 
 
 Jeddah, on the eastern coast of the Red Sea, is 
 the port at which thousands of pilgrims land to 
 visit Mecca, the birth-place, and Medina, the 
 burial-place of Mohammed, the founder of the 
 Mussulman faith. The vessels which carry the pil- 
 grims are dirty and crowded; but the owners 
 think only of the profit they obtain, and the 
 fervour of the devotees disposes them to suffer 
 without complaint. We have left Jeddah behind 
 us, we have passed Mocha, famed for its coffee, 
 and having taken a meal of fried fish at Backbay, 
 at a little distance from Aden, we are on our way 
 for Ceylon. 
 
 Highly favoured have we been with fine weather, 
 and the glowing glorious sunsets have given us 
 great delight. We have landed at Point de Galle, 
 Ceylon, and while the steamer has been replenish- 
 ing its exhausted fuel, we have taken a short ride 
 amidst the picturesque and beautiful scenery of 
 the place. How deliciously fragrant is the per- 
 fumed air ! how varied is the fruit-tree foliage ! 
 and how rich the green hue of the gigantic plants ! 
 Here coffee and cinnamon are grown ; here the 
 cocoa-nut and the bread-fruit trees flourish. Truly 
 this is a grove of vegetable beauty a garden of 
 fragrant spices. 
 
28 THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 Once more we are on board the steamer, and 
 our paddle-wheels are tearing away through the 
 heaving waters. Rapidly have we sped from 
 Ceylon, for already we see the flag flying at Fort 
 St. George, and the Madras surf beating on the 
 coast. Some are preparing to go on shore in the 
 Mussoolah boats, attended with catamarans, or 
 rafts, on each of which rides a skilful boatman 
 with a paddle. The Mussoolah sailors take the 
 advantage of a coming wave, and shoot forward to 
 the shore, when they leap out of the boat, and 
 seize hold of the prow to drag it out of the reach 
 of the foaming billows. The catamaran-men are 
 ready, in case of accident, to rescue passengers 
 from the raging flood. Again our steam is up, 
 we are moving onward : 
 
 Bold are the billows that around us rise, 
 
 And bright the glowing sun and kindling skies. 
 
 We have navigated the Bay of Bengal, pushed 
 up the river Hooghley, and rounded a reach in the 
 noble stream. Here we are at last at Calcutta, 
 which truly appears like a city of palaces. The 
 green shady banks and beautiful houses, somewhat 
 removed from the place ; the public buildings of 
 goodly architecture, the natives in their varied 
 oriental costumes, the palankeens and carriages of 
 the Europeans, the body-guard of the governor, 
 with the different boats and pinnaces which ply 
 
THE OVERLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 29 
 
 upon the Hooghley, all demand our attention. 
 The whole scene before us is novel, striking, and 
 impressive. 
 
 Since leaving Southampton and the Isle of 
 "Wight, we have breasted the waves of the Bay 
 of Biscay ; we have seen Cintra and the Tagus, 
 Cape Trafalgar, Tarifa, Gibraltar, Algiers, Malta, 
 and Alexandria ; we have traversed the Mahmou- 
 die Canal, visited Boulac and Cairo, crossed the 
 desert to Suez, and passed by Jeddah, Mocha, 
 Aden, Ceylon, and Madras, arriving at Calcutta 
 in safety. Truly our hearts should be filled with 
 thankfulness, and our mouths with praise. This 
 rapid mode of transit, this short cut from England 
 to her eastern possessions, by a holy influence, 
 may greatly extend the good of mankind, and 
 greatly increase the glory of the Redeemer. 
 
 Such, reader, is the real overland route to India, 
 which in our imagination we have pursued. We 
 may never in reality cross the desert of Suez ; but 
 we are, even now, traversing the desert of life, and 
 journeying together to an eternal world. Are we 
 as much in earnest, then, to realize our heavenly 
 prospects, as we are to obtain earthly possessions ? 
 If we are forward to cross sea and land for perish- 
 able riches, we should not be backward to strive 
 after eternal treasures. It behoves us to put this 
 question to our hearts, not, Are we pursuing plea- 
 D 2 
 
30 THE OVEKLAND ROUTE TO INDIA. 
 
 sure, wealth, or reputation ? but, Are we seekers 
 after eternal life, followers of God, and humble 
 and hearty disciples of Jesus Christ ? Let us not 
 deceive ourselves by pursuing glittering baubles, 
 and wasting our precious time, for we have too 
 much at stake to hesitate, and our lives are too 
 short to delay. With godly sincerity let us turn 
 our faces Zionward : 
 
 With girded loins set out for heaven, 
 
 Ere earth's enjoyments wither ; 
 And give not slumber to our eyes 
 
 Till we are journeying thither. 
 
ILL TELL YOU HOW IT IS. 
 
 " FLL tell you how it is," said a little gray- 
 haired man, with a calm-looking countenance, as 
 he sat on a bench under a tree, near a cottage, 
 with several people around him, who appeared to 
 listen with respect and attention to every word 
 that fell from his lips ; " I'll tell you how it is ; 
 there is no such a thing as being happy long 
 together in this world without a good hope 
 of a better. When the sun shines, and we have 
 our health, and our barrel of meal and our cruse 
 of oil are full, and we have many friends, we get 
 on tolerably well. But how is it with us when 
 things are otherwise ; when the sky is overcast, 
 when our health and strength fail us, when our 
 cruse and barrel are empty, and our friends walk 
 away from us and leave us to ourselves ? We are 
 all quick enough then to see the hollowness of 
 the world, and ready enough to cry unto the Lord 
 in our trouble that he may deliver us out of our 
 distresses." 
 
 As I stood in the low, shadowy lane, I could 
 catch a glimpse, now and then, of the assembled 
 
32 I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 
 
 group through the thick bowery screen of hazel 
 trees that separated us. There were, at least, a 
 dozen people together, several of them old men ; 
 but the little calm-faced, gray-headed man seemed 
 to be above the rest, both in condition and know* 
 ledge. He was evidently a man of piety, who had 
 mingled much with mankind, and kept both his 
 eyes and his ears open in passing on his pilgrim- 
 age. It struck me as not unlikely that he was 
 then paying a visit to his native village, and that 
 the friends around him had assembled to enjoy 
 his company. At first I had some scruples of 
 conscience in playing the part of a listener ; but I 
 was soon convinced that, in doing so, I was bene- 
 fiting myself without injuring any one. Many 
 people have a manner of conversation peculiar to 
 themselves, and this was the case with the little 
 gray-headed man, for almost all his observations 
 were commenced with the words, " I'll tell you 
 how it is." Some people have a sweet, persua- 
 sive way with them, and it was so with him ; I 
 could have listened to him by the hour. 
 
 " I'll tell you how it is," said he, in reply to a 
 remark that there were many unhappy couples in 
 the village, and the squire and his wife among 
 them ; " I'll tell you how it is that there is so 
 little affection in wedded life. Where one couple 
 go to the altar in a sober-minded, God-fearing 
 
I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 33 
 
 spirit, ten couples go there in a thoughtless, 
 laughing, joking spirit. Now it is no joke to do 
 that, which death alone can undo. If husbands, 
 instead of telling their wives that it is their duty 
 to obey them ; and wives, instead of telling their 
 husbands it is their duty to support them, would 
 love one another, bear with one another, pray for 
 one another, and try to help one another on the 
 way to heaven ; the wrangling and jangling, the 
 bitterness and altercation of married life would 
 cease. The husband and wife that fear God, and 
 love one another, can never be altogether un- 
 happy." 
 
 Many of the inhabitants of the village had 
 been called away. Some of them had died in 
 their " full strength, being wholly at ease and 
 quiet ;" while others had departed in the bitter- 
 ness of their souls, with no heart-sustaining 
 consolation, no cheering hope, through the Re- 
 deemer, of a glorious immortality. "I'll tell you 
 how it is," said the little man, as he rested on 
 his stick ; reminding me of good old father 
 Jacob, leaning on his staff in years gone by : 
 " We are not sufficiently in earnest in Divine 
 things, indeed we are not, and thus we rob our- 
 selves of much peace and of much joy. We are 
 not apt in our every- day concerns to take the 
 shell instead of the kernel, the cup instead of the 
 
34 I'LL TELL Tot) flow IT is. 
 
 liquor, and the shadow instead of the substance. 
 We do not do this in our common affairs, why 
 should we do it in holy things ? And yet many 
 go to God's house, and read God's holy word, 
 with no more concern for their souls than if they 
 had none. Church-going and Bible-reading are 
 good things; but we are dying creatures, and 
 they will not give us life ; we are lost sinners, 
 and they will not save us. We should strive to 
 enter in at the strait gate ; we should follow hard 
 after eternal things, showing how highly we esti- 
 mate the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love 
 of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost. 
 If we were more in earnest than we are, we 
 should often rejoice when we now despond, and 
 shed tears of joy rather than those of sorrow." 
 
 As the party continued their conversation, one 
 of them lamented that the son and daughter of 
 the wheelwright had turned out so sadly as they 
 had done. " I'll tell you how it is," said he of 
 the gray head ; " the poor children are, perhaps, 
 as much to be pitied as they are to be blamed. 
 If young people have a bad example set them by 
 their parents, can we wonder that they should 
 follow it ? The boy that steals a penny without 
 punishment, by-and-by will steal a pound. The 
 girl who is allowed to wear trinkets and finery 
 when under the mother's eye, is not likely to 
 
I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 35 
 
 throw them aside when she has none to control 
 her. Fond parents too often laugh at those 
 things in their children at one time, which force 
 them to weep at another. If they let their little 
 ones tear off the wing of the butterfly, spin the 
 cockchafer, stone the frog to death, and torment 
 the cat, is it cause of wonder that they should 
 grow up to be cruel? If they allow them to 
 neglect their Creator in the days of their youth, 
 ought they to be surprised that they do not fear 
 God in their after years ? Parents will do well to 
 remember that if the heart of a child is not 
 weeded like a garden, it will abound with thistles 
 and thorns." 
 
 It was evident from many of the remarks which 
 were made, that there had been some sad alterca- 
 tions in the village, and different opinions were 
 expressed about them. " I'll tell you how it is," 
 said the little man ; " if we loved God more, we 
 should love our neighbours more. If we reflected 
 on his forbearance to us more, we should bear 
 with one another more. Instead of remembering 
 the text, ' A soft answer turneth away wrath, 
 but grievous words stir up anger/ on the least 
 provocation our language is as sharp as a two- 
 edged sword. Instead of * hoping all things,' 
 and * enduring all things,' we give way to hatred, 
 malice, and all uncharitableness. We are told 
 
36 I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 
 
 not to render railing for railing, but contrariwise 
 blessing ; but so far from this, neither Jew, 
 Turk, infidel, nor pagan, can show more quick- 
 ness to resent an insult, or to revenge an injury, 
 than many of us do. Shame ! shame upon us ! 
 As it is in the town, so it is in the country ; we 
 seem to carry a flint and steel with us, and strike 
 fire on the least occasion. If we had more of 
 God's grace in our hearts, we should manifest a 
 better temper." 
 
 There was so much good sense, and apparent 
 sincerity and kindness in the gray-headed speaker, 
 that I could have listened by the hour to his 
 remarks ; but at last it was plain that he was 
 drawing near the end of his observations. His 
 friends gathered closer around him ; they seemed 
 to hang more affectionately on his words ; and the 
 thought struck me that some of them had a 
 belief that it was the last time they should listen 
 to his words. 
 
 Two or three of the oldest of the throng 
 remarked, that life appeared a very different 
 thing to them then to what it had used to do in 
 the days of their youth. <c I'll tell you how it 
 is," said the Christian-hearted little man, holding 
 up his hand, and pointing with his forefinger as 
 he spoke : " a man growing into years is like one 
 climbing a hill ; he gets a clearer view of the path 
 
I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 87 
 
 he has trodden, and of his wrong turnings. He 
 sees where he has wasted his time and his 
 strength for nought, and how he might have 
 avoided one-half of the errors he has committed. 
 Like most young people, I used to think health, 
 riches, and position in life made up all that a man 
 could desire ; and he who could get them must 
 be happy. Alas ! I have seen so many proud 
 men humbled ; so many rich men made poor, and 
 so many strong men carried to the grave, that my 
 opinion is altered. So many glittering bubbles 
 have burst around me, that did a man possess the 
 world, I could pity him if he had not the word of 
 God for his guide, the Saviour for his hope, and 
 heaven for his home." 
 
 Here the speaker rose up from the bench, as 
 though he was about to walk towards the cot- 
 tage ; but still he lingered, as loth to leave the 
 place without a few more parting words. One of 
 the throng spoke a few sentences about the squire 
 having broken his word ; and that the church- 
 warden, a rich man, who had promised to do 
 many things for him, had not done them. 
 
 " I'll tell you how it is," said the little man 
 for the last time ; " we depend too much on our 
 friends around us, and too little on the goodness 
 of our heavenly Father ; forgetting that his are 
 the silver and the gold, and the cattle on a thou- 
 
38 I'LL TELL YOU HOW IT is. 
 
 sand hills ; forgetting that he has the hearts of 
 all men in his hands, and that he can turn them 
 according to his good pleasure. If we have an 
 enemy in him, we have nothing to hope ; and if 
 he is our Friend and Father, we have nothing to 
 fear. How it would delight me to know that all 
 of you in the village were living in the fear of the 
 Lord ; committing yourselves, and all you pos- 
 sess, and all that are dear to you into his holy 
 hands. This will be the way to enjoy gratefully, 
 to endure patiently, and to obtain peace : 
 
 " ' Whate'er betide of worldly strife, 
 Though care and trouble frown, 
 Look up to Him who gave you life, 
 And blessings will come down.' " 
 
 Finding the party about to separate, I hastily 
 left my hiding-place and walked on. Though 
 some time has passed, reader, since this village 
 adventure took place, I am not likely to forget it ; 
 and never do I hear the expression, " I'll tell you 
 how it is," without again seeing in my imagina- 
 tion that village scene. There is the cottage, 
 there the assembled throng, and there sits on the 
 bench, under the tree, the little gray-headed old 
 man, with Christian charity in his heart, and the 
 language of Christian love falling from his lips. 
 
ON ENTERING A NEW 
 HABITATION. 
 
 THE practice of assembling together a party of 
 convivial friends on taking possession of a new 
 abode, is not uncommon. The occasion is taken 
 to manifest a social spirit, to exercise a friendly 
 hospitality, and to indulge in a season of festivity. 
 True it is that this open-heartedness is often 
 carried to excess, so that the social assembly can 
 hardly be looked back upon without regret ; but it 
 is not for the purpose of indulging in reproach that 
 these remarks are now offered. To see human 
 beings happy is a pleasant sight, and it is only 
 when that happiness is associated with thought- 
 lessness, folly, immorality, or impiety, that it can 
 be regarded with emotions of dissatisfaction. 
 
 There is, however, on the part of some Chris- 
 tians, a desire in all things to recognise their 
 heavenly Father, and to seek his guidance and 
 glory in all their concerns, both in going out and 
 in coming in. They will neither stand still nor go 
 forward without prayer and praise. 
 
 As a kind of contrast to the customarv con- 
 
40 ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 
 
 vivial mode of celebrating the entrance to a new 
 house, I will give a sketch of a friendly gathering 
 that took place a short time ago, on the occasion 
 of a Christian family entering a new habitation, 
 appealing to my reader for his opinion on the 
 same. " We have changed our abode," said the 
 friendly note of invitation that reached me, "as 
 you will perceive by the above address ; and as 
 we are desirous of seeking our Father's blessing 
 on this movement, as well as on all we do, we 
 have arranged a little meeting of Christian friends, 
 principally for prayer and thanksgiving. It will 
 add to our pleasure if you will be one of the 
 party." I failed not to attend. The assembled 
 family group, with servants and guests, consisted 
 of about thirty persons of all ages, from under 
 three to above threescore. 
 
 Broken, for a while, as the party was into 
 smaller groups, an observant eye might have 
 rested on a series of ever-changing pictures. 
 Here was the host standing in conversation with 
 two of his Christian friends ; there the hostess 
 sitting surrounded with ladies and children ; and 
 yonder a loveable child clinging to a benevolent- 
 looking gentleman, who regarded her affection- 
 ately ; while an elderly guest, with his lame foot 
 on a chair, was comfortably ensconced in a corner, 
 apparently contemplating the social scene. The 
 
ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 4 1 
 
 devotional exercises of the evening were conducted 
 by a clergyman, who appeared to enter very heartily 
 into the pastoral duties he had undertaken. 
 
 During the address that was given, I took an 
 occasional glance around me, and should say, 
 judging from the abased eye, the fixed attention, 
 and the serious demeanour of all, that every mind, 
 without a single exception, was impressed and 
 solemnized. 
 
 At first the roof and walls rang with sacred 
 psalmody, accompanied with the well-modulated 
 tones of a piano. The beautiful version of the 
 34th Psalm by Brady and Tate, had been appro- 
 priately chosen : 
 
 " Through all the changing scenes of life, 
 
 In trouble and in joy, 
 The praises of my God shall still 
 My heart and tongue employ. 
 
 Of his deliverance will I boast, 
 
 Till all that are distrest, 
 From my example comfort take, 
 
 And soothe their griefs to rest." 
 
 Often have I been struck in a churchyard with 
 the force and beauty of a scriptural text graven 
 on a tombstone, which before I had read in the 
 Bible, over and over again, with little emotion ; 
 and certain it is that when our attention is drawn 
 to passages of Holy Writ, under novel or influen- 
 tial circumstances, we regard them with an added 
 E 2 
 
42 ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 
 
 interest. It was so on the occasion in question, 
 and the words of the 23rd Psalrn, " The Lord is 
 my Shepherd ; I shall not want," etc. the por- 
 tion of Scripture then read and applied to the 
 circumstances in which we then were appeared 
 to be unusually full of comfort and encouragement. 
 The following points, among many others, were 
 dwelt upon. 
 
 In our habitations we have many mercies and 
 many miseries ; but it is an especial mercy to be 
 able to say among them all, " The Lord is my 
 Shepherd," for under his guidance we are not 
 only safe, but we shall want for nothing. 
 
 The habitations of Christians are not so much 
 abodes, as they are way- side inns, for we have no 
 abiding place on this side eternity. When we quit 
 one house for another, to have the Lord for our 
 Shepherd and Guide is an unspeakable advan- 
 tage. If he goes with us, we cannot go wrong. 
 All the steps of a righteous man are ordered and 
 sure. 
 
 It has been intimated by a devoted servant of 
 God, that in turning up a street it is of import- 
 ance which side we take ; for something may 
 happen if we take the one side, which would not 
 have occurred had we taken the other. A re- 
 move, then, to another home is an act of import- 
 ance. The Lord's dealings with his people are 
 
ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 43 
 
 wonderful ; he leads them in paths that they 
 know not. 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way, 
 
 His wonders to perform ; 
 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm. 
 
 <c Deep in unfathomable mines 
 
 Of never-failing skill, 
 He treasures up his bright designs, 
 And works his sovereign will." 
 
 He who feels that the Lord has led him, has 
 nothing to fear. All things shall work together 
 for good ; past trials and future mercies. 
 
 It is an excellent practice to turn all particular 
 days and occurrences to account. Birth-days, 
 new-year days, and seasons of removing from one 
 place to another. It is the Lord our Shepherd 
 alone who can prepare our way for us, giving us 
 to " lie down in green pastures," and leading us 
 " beside the still waters." To him, then, should 
 we go. 
 
 Sad evils follow when only part of a family are 
 Christians ; for an unchristian master or mistress 
 will not unfrequently act harshly, unreasonably, 
 and unjustly towards a Christian servant. And 
 an unchristian servant will often disobey, deceive, 
 and wrong a Christian master and mistress. They 
 have no common bond to bind them together, no 
 fellowship that is to be relied on. 
 
44 ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 
 
 How different is the case in a family of Chris- 
 tians, and how rare it is for a family of Christians 
 to be found ! When all are Christians master, 
 mistress, children, and servants they have one 
 principle to go upon, one standard to appeal to : 
 "Is it for God's glory?" If so, it must be 
 done. If not, it must be omitted. They practise 
 self-denial and forbearance ; they manifest affec- 
 tion and Christian integrity. 
 
 When the members of a Christian family re- 
 move from an old house to a new house, they do 
 it for some advantage. They expect new com- 
 forts and new mercies, and, the Lord being their 
 Shepherd, they are justified in expecting them. 
 But new mercies create new duties. They also 
 call for new prayers, new praises, and new de- 
 sires to glorify God and honour the Redeemer : 
 " Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things 
 are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatso- 
 ever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
 whatsoever things are of good report ; if there be 
 any virtue, and if there be any praise," these 
 things must be sought after. 
 
 All that was evil should be left in the old 
 house, and all that is good should be brought to 
 the new one. In the new house there will not 
 only be new pleasures the Lord's "mercies are 
 new every morning " and new opportunities of 
 
ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 45 
 
 usefulness, but also new responsibilities, new 
 trials, and new temptations. We should prepare 
 for these by renewed watchfulness, humility, and 
 faith. If the Lord be our Shepherd, whatever 
 be our troubles, he will restore our souls, and 
 lead us "in the paths of righteousness." Even 
 unto death he will be with us, comforting us with 
 his rod and staff, giving us, as we journey on, to 
 drink of the brook by the way, and spreading a 
 table for us in the presence of our enemies. 
 Come what will, happen what may, goodness and 
 mercy will follow us all the days of our lives. 
 
 But when blessings abound in a new habitation, 
 there is great danger. Flavel and Leighton, 
 Scott and Baxter, and Matthew Henry and 
 others, give us the Christian warning, after great 
 mercies to expect temptation. Pirates rob full 
 vessels, and Satan loves to waylay a full Christian. 
 When laden with holy exercises, even when 
 returning from the table of the Lord, Satan whis- 
 pers his seductions to inflate with self-righteous- 
 ness the unwary soul. Well may we mistrust 
 our own wisdom and strength, and look unre- 
 servedly to the Lord our Shepherd to guide us 
 by his counsel and receive us to glory. 
 
 Whether in an old house or a new one, the 
 heart of the Christian should pant after the 
 Lord, and his whole soul be set on that building 
 
4(3 ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 
 
 of God, that " house not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens." 
 
 Such, though here very imperfectly set forth, 
 are a few of the many points which were urged 
 on our consideration. After a prayer had been 
 offered, the room re-echoed with the words 
 
 " Jesus, where'er thy people meet, 
 There they behold thy mercy-seat ; 
 Where'er they seek thee thou art found, 
 And every place is hallow'd ground. 
 
 Dear Shepherd of thy chosen few, 
 Thy former mercies here renew ; 
 Here to our waiting hearts proclaim 
 The sweetness of thy saving name. 
 
 Lord, we are few, hut thou art near; 
 Nor short thine arm, nor deaf thine ear ; 
 Oh, rend the heavens, come quickly down, 
 And make a thousand hearts thine own." 
 
 After these devotional exercises, the rites of 
 hospitality were extended to the assembled guests ; 
 and cheerful and Christian conversation prevailed, 
 during which the eldest of the guests remarked, 
 that if no other person present had been benefited, 
 he believed that he had been benefited himself, so 
 impressed had his mind been with the novelty 
 and solemnity of the meeting. He observed, 
 that there existed this striking difference between 
 merely convivial and Christian parties, that when, 
 after they had passed, we looked back to the 
 former, they imparted no consolation. They took 
 
ON ENTERING A NEW HABITATION. 47 
 
 us back to the past, but they did not lead us on 
 to the future. Whereas, when we gave a retro- 
 spective glance at our Christian gatherings, we 
 often remembered the expression of one friend 
 that brightened our heavenly hope, the remark 
 of another that confirmed our faith in eternal 
 things, and the observation of a third that called 
 forth our Christian affections ; while all of them 
 pointed onwards, as it were, with an emphatic 
 finger, to the city with the golden gates, that 
 " building of God," that " house not made 
 with hands, eternal in the heavens," which had 
 been that night so earnestly pressed on their 
 attention. 
 
 The remainder of the evening was agreeably 
 passed, and when the assembly broke up they 
 parted as those ought to part, who, mingling 
 together in prayer and praise, look to the same 
 Lord and Saviour for everlasting life, steadfastly 
 believing that " He is able to save them to the 
 uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing 
 he ever liveth to make intercession for them," 
 Heb. vii. 25. 
 
 Almighty Lord, where'er our tent may stand, 
 Our Shepherd be ; guard us on every hand. 
 With grace and goodness guide us on our way; 
 Go where we go, and where we tarry stay. 
 
THE DARK CLOUD WITH THE 
 SILVER LINING. 
 
 <e AND so you have been in trouble, John ? " 
 said I. " It is a long time now since I was in 
 this part of the country. When I was here last, 
 your wife was alive, but even then she seemed to 
 me to be ready for glory." 
 
 " I humbly believe she was, sir, and since 
 then, as a shock of corn fully ripe, she has been 
 gathered into God's garner. It was not a light 
 affliction to lose her, after living with her five 
 and forty years ; but there is a time to die as 
 well as a time to live, and as she said, God's 
 time is the best time." 
 
 "True, John, and when we think otherwise, 
 we think wrong. Was she patient in her 
 illness?" 
 
 " Patient as a lamb, sir. c It's not for the like 
 of us,' said she, ' to be murmurers in the midst 
 of our mercies. There is a cloud round me, 
 John, but blessed be God, dark as it is, it has a 
 silver lining.' " 
 
 " What did she mean by that, John ? " 
 
THE DAUK CLOUD WITH THE SILVER LINING. 49 
 
 " I will tell you, sir. The last time we walked 
 out together, poor soul, she hung heavy enough 
 on my arm, and made but a sad walk of it ; we 
 went to the end of the orchard, just as the sun 
 was setting. There was a cloud over the sun 
 black enough, but its edges looked as bright as 
 silver. As we came through the orchard we 
 talked of the sun being in the cloud, and my 
 poor wife, as she turned round to look at it once 
 more, said, ' When God is in it, John, the 
 darkest cloud is sure to have a silver lining.' >; 
 
 " I understand now. She meant to say, then, 
 that God was in the cloud around her ? " 
 
 " She did, sir, and surely He was there, too, 
 or she never would have demeaned herself so 
 meekly. When she spoke of the cloud with the 
 silver lining, it was only another way of saying, 
 c The Lord is my light and my salvation ; whom 
 shall I fear ? The Lord is the strength of my 
 life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? J Psa. xxvii. 1 . 
 Many of us are glib enough with our tongues, 
 and have texts of Scripture ready on all occasions, 
 but my poor Mary had them in her heart. She 
 had always the advantage over me in times of 
 trouble, sir, for while I was fuming and fretting, 
 she could lie quiet in God's hands, her soul 
 magnifying the Lord, and her spirit rejoicing in 
 God her Saviour." 
 
50 THE DARK CLOUD 
 
 " You appear to like to talk of her ? " 
 " Why, yes, sir, and sometimes I am afraid 
 that I ease my own heart at the expense of other 
 people, tiring them in listening to me ; but when 
 I talk of her, it seems as if we were nearer 
 together." 
 
 " No doubt it does. It was no earthly 
 teacher, John, that taught her to lie quiet in 
 God's hands. Such an especial mercy comes 
 only from Him who taught David the same 
 lesson. You remember his words, ' Surely I 
 have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that 
 is weaned of his mother : my soul is even as a 
 weaned child,' " Psa. cxxxi. 2. 
 
 " I do, sir, and wish that I could say them 
 oftener than I can with all my heart. You will, 
 perhaps, smile at me, sir, when I tell you that 
 what my poor wife said about the cloud and 
 the silver lining has given a new value to my 
 Bible." 
 
 " In what way, John ? In what way ? " 
 " In this way, sir : it has led me to ponder 
 more in my heart the heavy troubles and mer- 
 ciful deliverances of God's people. Look at 
 Abraham to think of a man being called on to 
 offer up his own son, when heaven and earth 
 might be supposed to cry out against such a 
 deed. Why, the cloud that hung over him was 
 
WITH THE SILVER LINING 51 
 
 black as ink, and yet what a beautiful lining it 
 had after all ! The trial of Abraham's faith was 
 perfected, the faithfulness of the Lord made clear, 
 and the promise that he had given to his servant 
 abundantly fulfilled." 
 
 "You apply this matter well, John." 
 
 " Again, sir, when Joseph was cast into the 
 pit, there seemed little hope for him, nor was his 
 case much mended when he was sold to the 
 Ishmaelites ; but when once Potiphar had put 
 him in prison, it appeared to be all over with 
 him. He was, however, the Lord's servant ; and 
 the Lord delivered him, and blessed him, so that 
 the silver lining was seen quite as plain as the 
 dark cloud which had overshadowed him." 
 
 " Very true." 
 
 "I hope, sir, that you will not think I am 
 talking faster than I ought on this subject, but 
 my heart is rather full of it. When we see 
 David, with nothing but a sling and a few stones, 
 about to fight with an armed giant ; when we 
 see Daniel in the lion's den, and Shadrach, 
 Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, 
 the cloud appears so dark and threatening, that 
 it is quite enough to alarm us : but the moment 
 God is seen in the matter, the silver edge begins 
 to appear, for God's servants are sure to have 
 God's assistance." 
 
 " And I suppose, John, that you consider the 
 
52 THE DARK CLOUD WITH THE SILVER LINING. 
 
 servants of the Lord are quite as much under 
 the Almighty's care now, as they were in old 
 times ? " 
 
 " Blessed be God, I do, sir ; and here lies my 
 comfort, that, sinners as we are, we may say the 
 God of Abraham and Joseph, David and Daniel, 
 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, is our God 
 for ever and ever, and ' He will be our guide even 
 unto death.' Shadows may gather around us, 
 sickness may come, and sorrow and death may 
 come ; but to a Christian man, the hope of eternal 
 life through Him that suffered upon the cross, is 
 the true silver lining to every cloud." 
 
 " You are right, John you are right ; and I 
 trust this little conversation will do me good, for 
 most of us are more given to lament over our 
 trials, than to rejoice over our mercies. This 
 ought not to be ; for as God's promises are all 
 yea and amen in Jesus Christ, and as it is certain 
 that all things work together for good to them 
 that love God ; so whatever afflictions betide, it 
 becomes every follower of the Redeemer, with 
 a grateful heart, to look less and less at the 
 dark cloud, and more and more at the silver 
 lining." 
 
 Reader ! let me appeal to you, whether there 
 is not much in the remarks of honest John that 
 is well worthy of your best regard ? 
 
THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 
 
 As a trickling stream becomes a mighty river, so 
 evils that appear harmless in their origin, often- 
 times become fearfully influential. There is not 
 an error, reader, that has not its evil conse- 
 quences, nor a sin that is long separated from 
 sorrow. A breeze of anger becomes a blast, and 
 the blast increases to a whirlwind. The thought 
 of hatred is followed by words of bitterness and 
 deeds of violence. Some of the direst scourges 
 which plague the world were once other than they 
 are. They were hardly noticed, they are now 
 notorious ; they were weak, they are now power- 
 ful ; they were limked, and now they are 
 extended in the earth : " Behold, how great a 
 matter a little fire kindleth ! " Jas. iii. 5. 
 
 On trifling errors keep your watchful eyes, 
 For great events from little causes rise. 
 
 War did not always exist, clothed in scarlet, 
 with a sword girt on his thigh, going forth with 
 the sound of the trumpet. Envy and anger were 
 his parents ; covetousness, ambition, and cruelty 
 were his companions. At first he was a dwarf, 
 F 2 
 
54 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 
 
 but afterwards he bestrid the earth as a giant, 
 inventing his hellish instruments of destruction, 
 retaining his warriors ready armed for the battle, 
 and sending forth his legions on lawless errands 
 of rapine and death. War began with the first 
 man that was born of woman. When will men 
 learn to love one another ? When will they beat 
 their swords into ploughshares, and their spears 
 into pruning-hooks, and practise war no more ? 
 " From whence come wars and fightings among 
 you ? Come they not hence, even of your lusts ? " 
 Jas. iv. 1 . 
 
 War is the friend of sin the cruel, blind, 
 Implacable oppressor of mankind. 
 
 Idolatry is the seed of error, and abundant is 
 the harvest of iniquity it has brought forth. Man 
 was not satisfied in looking to the Lord, he must 
 needs make himself a god and worship it ; he must 
 form for himself a graven image, and fall down to 
 it, and thus a flood of unrighteousness was let 
 loose on the earth. A dead image symbolized 
 the living God, and idols of gold, silver, iron, 
 wood, and stone were set up as representations 
 of the Lord of lords, and King of kings. Dagon, 
 Ashtaroth, and Baal were followed by Jupiter, 
 Apollo, Mars, and Mercury, and the innumerable 
 idols of the Hindoo and Oriental world. Truly 
 the name of idolatry is " Legion," for there is no 
 
THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 55 
 
 end of its strange gods, and its strange delusions : 
 "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven 
 image, or any likeness of any thing that is in 
 heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or 
 that is in the water under the earth : thou shalt 
 not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them/' 
 Exod. xx. 4, 5. 
 
 Bow lowly down at Heaven's eternal throne, 
 And praise and magnify the Lord alone. 
 
 Popery was once a little child, harmless and 
 little known ; infantine and lisping in its language. 
 So feeble was it, that it could not walk alone, but 
 it was nourished at the breast of error, dandled 
 on the knees of pride, and brought up by bigotry, 
 selfishness, and tyranny, till it became a man of 
 sin, a monster of iniquity, " a full-blown anti- 
 christ." Weak and harmless as antichrist was, 
 he became strong, and deceitful, and cruel, for 
 there was "given unto him a mouth speaking 
 great things and blasphemies ; and it was given 
 unto him to make war with the saints, and to 
 overcome them. And all that dwell upon the 
 earth shall worship him, whose names are not 
 written in the book of life of the Lamb slain 
 from the foundation of the world," Rev. xiii. 5 8. 
 
 Oh, let us leave all priestly pomp and pride, 
 And trust alone in Jesus crucified. 
 
56 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 
 
 Slavery, or rather the slave-trade, was as an 
 acorn set in the soil, springing up, striking its 
 roots deep, and throwing out its branches wide. 
 Covetousness and cruelty formed an unholy com- 
 pact, might overcame right, one act of oppression 
 succeeded another, till man, instead of being a 
 brother, became a task-master and a tyrant, 
 multiplying the miseries of the earth, crowding 
 the vessels of the deep with cargoes of victims, 
 and loading the air with agonizing sighs and 
 groans. Even now the unrighteous traffic, the 
 Cain-like cruelty, is continued, and the blood of 
 ten thousand slaves is crying unto Heaven from 
 the ground : " I returned, and considered all 
 the oppressions that are done under the sun : and 
 behold, the tears of such as were oppressed, and, 
 they had no comforter ; and on the side of their 
 oppressors there was power ; but they had no 
 comforter," Eccles. iv. 1. 
 
 Not always shall the captive weep and wail, 
 Not always shall the iron hand prevail. 
 
 Intemperance wins its way, at first, by slow 
 degrees ; as one evil thought prepares the heart 
 to receive another, so intemperance smooths the 
 path for every evil. What the roll of the drum 
 and the blast of the brazen-mouth trumpet are to 
 the soldier on the field of battle, the sparkling 
 glass is to the sinful passions of men, animating, 
 
THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 57 
 
 encouraging, and urging them onwards in their 
 mad career. Truly has it been said, War has 
 slain its thousands, but intemperance its ten 
 thousands. How harmless does intemperance 
 appear in a season of festivity ! but, gradually, 
 folly, temptation, and riotous living render it 
 deadly. It deceives the young and the old ; it 
 draws together the prodigal, the drunkard, the 
 libertine, and the gamester ; it promises pleasure, 
 but it afterwards inflicts pain, and sows the seeds 
 of ruin, remorse, and destruction : " Look not 
 thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth 
 his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself 
 aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and 
 stingeth like an adder, Prov. xxiii. 31, 32. 
 
 By different names we different sins may call, 
 But mad intemperance produces all. 
 
 Avoid, then, the beginnings of evil, for when 
 sin is once set in motion, it is no easy thing to 
 arrest its progress. Cruel war, sinful idolatry, 
 soul-deceiving popery, oppressive slavery, and 
 destructive intemperance, are but a few of the 
 many evils that cast their shadows on the 
 world. Would you walk safely, walk humbly : 
 would you reach the world of glory, keep in 
 the narrow way, and call upon the name of the 
 Lord, for " The Lord is nigh unto all them that 
 
58 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 
 
 call upon him ; he also will hear their cry, and 
 will save them," Psa. cxlv. 18, 19. 
 
 In Jesus' holy name put up your prayer, 
 And God will make you his eternal care. 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 
 
 EDITORS and Reviewers habitually use the 
 pronoun we instead of I, and in giving the fol- 
 lowing sketch of a sunny day at Malvern, I am 
 fain to avail myself of the same privilege. Being 
 in a buoyant mood I shall indulge in a cheerful 
 spirit. 
 
 Perhaps, reader, like ourselves, you have gazed 
 on other than British scenes ; perhaps you have 
 admired them, and roamed and revelled in them ; 
 so have we : but they have increased rather than 
 diminished our affection for our native land. We 
 would fain try to call up the love of country in 
 your beating heart and throbbing veins, 
 
 " For amid all the dazzling enchantments surrounding 
 
 The land of the stranger, wherever we roam, 
 We never shall find the bright beauties abounding 
 'Mid scenes of our childhood, our country, and home.* 
 
 It may be that you have estimated too lowly 
 the scenery of England ; if so, amend your error. 
 Accompany us in our remarks, and share our 
 exultation. For vastness, romanticity, grandeur, 
 and sublimity we must go abroad ; but for sweet- 
 ness, repose, freshness, and cheerful beauty, give 
 
60 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 
 
 us the fair scenes of our native and beloved land 
 before all others beneath the stars. 
 
 There are few counties in England, from Nor- 
 thumberland to Hampshire, and from Kent to 
 Cornwall, whose scenes we have not enjoyed. 
 We are now at Malvern, and, like the rest of the 
 sight-seeing world, disposed to give an account 
 of our visit. Not a lengthy, heavy, humdrum, 
 broad-wheeled wagon sort of a narrative, telling 
 you merely where Malvern is, the number of its 
 hotels, and boarding-houses ; the property of its 
 waters, and chalybeate spring, and other matters 
 already well disposed of by the guide-books of 
 the place ; but a light, sketchy, healthy narrative, 
 making the eye of the reader sparkle, as if he 
 were drinking at St. Ann's Well, climbing the 
 Worcestershire Beacon, and breathing the balmy 
 breeze. 
 
 It was to preserve, not to procure, health that 
 we came to Malvern, and we mean to roam amid 
 its mountains, to breathe the pure breath of the 
 place, to gaze on its goodly scenes, and to be 
 grateful, from 
 
 " The breezy call of incense-breathing morn," 
 
 to the time when the spacious and spangled 
 firmament, studded with glittering worlds, sets 
 forth the glory of our great Creator. Again we 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 61 
 
 say we are in health, and the water doctors of the 
 place will not get a patient from our party. 
 
 A pleasant drive brought us here yesterday, 
 
 in our friend R 's phaeton. Amid such 
 
 delightful scenery as this, an open carriage 
 doubles the enjoyment of the spectator. We had 
 post-horses, and a postilion on one of them, in 
 a gold-laced cap, and jacket, with white cords 
 below. Fresh horses were ready for us at the 
 different stages. In our route towards Broms- 
 grove and Worcester, the Lickey Hills were 
 passed ; we remembered the time when the 
 surrounding country was a desert waste, and 
 when a gibbet stood on one of the hills, with the 
 bones of a murderer hanging in irons. We 
 remembered, too, the waterspout, which burst on 
 the Lickey Hills, when the mighty flood rushed 
 in a torrent through the streets of Bromsgrove : 
 
 The winds of heaven were wild and loud, 
 
 And fierce the lightning flame 
 Was launch'd abroad from the coal-black cloud, 
 
 And down the waters came. 
 
 At Malvern we alighted at the Coburg Hotel, 
 or Foley Arms, in a cheerful mood, and with an 
 excellent appetite ; and the soles, boiled chickens 
 with white sauce, and ham, that were set before 
 us, with the quarter of lamb, various vegetables, 
 custard pudding and tart, by no means impaired 
 
 G 
 
62 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERX*. 
 
 the hilarity of our spirits. Doubtless we could 
 have fasted like anchorites, had so much self- 
 denial been required ; but this not being neces- 
 sary, we gratefully partook of the banquet set 
 before us. One word, however, must be spoken 
 of our party. 
 
 There are five of us. Of the ladies, two are 
 English, and one from the Principality ; we call 
 her, jocosely, Miss Plinlimmon Cadwallador. Of 
 the two " lords of the creation," the one is 
 
 literary, and the other, R , more aristocratic 
 
 in his mien. The latter is familiar with the 
 sunny scenes of Spain, in New and Old Castile, 
 Leon, Biscay, and Andalusia ; he has lingered in 
 the Escurial, and the Alhambra, mingled with 
 the proud Dons in their betasselled monteros, and 
 the graceful Donas in their lace mantillas in the 
 Prados, and Alamedas ; and attended the bar- 
 barous bull-fights of the Plaza de Toros. Many 
 are the fair scenes on the banks of the Douro, 
 the Tajo, the Guadiana, the Ebro, and the Gua- 
 dalquiver ; but not fairer than the wide-spread 
 prospect before us. 
 
 Let us describe our sunny day, making our 
 remarks as we pass along. It is six of the clock, 
 the morning is beautiful, and we are on the way 
 to St. Ann's Well. Early as it is, we are not 
 alone ; our paths are peopled, for here both 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 63 
 
 health and pleasure are sought early. Yonder is 
 
 R far before us ; he was abroad before we 
 
 left our chambers. 
 
 And this is St. Ann's Well ! The stream 
 issues from the rock, and falls into a large and 
 curiously carved stone-receiver, placed in a room 
 which forms a part of St. Ann's Cottage. How 
 fresh, how pure, how clear, how sparkling the 
 waters ! We have all taken a glass, and now for 
 a ramble with a liberty-loving spirit. The sun is 
 in the sky, the lark is in the air, and the cuckoo, 
 whose cheerful note is so often heard, and whose 
 form is so seldom seen, is inviting us to roam. 
 We walk together, or divide, according to the 
 whim of the moment ; making way, at one time, 
 for an invalid in his carriage chair, and at 
 another for a countryman, with his milk-cans 
 glittering in the sun. We admire the blue sky, 
 and the green trees, and the landscape, and gather 
 wild flowers ; and now we turn into a meadow, 
 more profusely enamelled, to gather a posey ; 
 but Miss Plinlimmon forbids. What ! shall we 
 be withheld from gathering a nosegay by a 
 descendant of the ancient Britons ? No, nor by 
 a hundred " Taffies," with leeks in their hats. 
 Our design shall not be abandoned for " Cad- 
 wallador and all his goats." 
 
64 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVEEN. 
 
 " We will gather the beautiful flowers as they grow, 
 The sweet, and the scentless, and those that bend low; 
 The pale, and the gaudy, the tiny, the tall 
 Red, white, yellow, and blue, we will gather them all. ' 
 
 We are come to North Malvern, and the cover- 
 ing of the handsome tank, formed for the poor, 
 by a benevolent inhabitant of London, and over- 
 grown with ivy, attracts our attention. The 
 barren, ragged, cliff-like hill in the back ground 
 has a wild and imposing appearance : cows, 
 horses, sheep, and lambs are feeding on the sides 
 of the hills. The water at the tank is fresh and 
 sparkling, like that of St. Ann's Well, and pleased 
 are we in having thus unconsciously rambled to 
 gaze on another of the lions of Malvern. 
 
 Yonder is the Holy Well, another of the pure 
 springs that run from the hills. If it be true 
 that Rumour has a hundred tongues, it is equally 
 so that she has used them all in spreading 
 abroad the cures performed by these healing 
 streams. How little thankfulness we feel for 
 water, and yet what is its worth ? Let the faint- 
 ing invalid ; the diseased sufferer, raging with 
 fever ; the weary and heat-oppressed traveller ; 
 and the pilgrim, with parched throat, treading 
 the hot sands of the burning desert, give the 
 reply. 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 65 
 
 We have returned to Great Malvern, with 
 elastic tread and buoyant spirits, taken our places 
 at the breakfast table, and again sallied forth to 
 witness the sights of the place. "See, enjoy, 
 and be happy, but linger not," is our motto. 
 We shall not be tempted, even by the antiquities 
 of the church, and the ancient architecture of the 
 Abbey gateway, to deliver an antiquarian lecture, 
 however well we may persuade ourselves that we 
 are qualified for the undertaking. We will neither 
 geologize the hills, analyze the waters, nor inquire 
 into the mean temperature of the seasons of this 
 highly favoured locality. To knit our brows in 
 these inquiries would militate against the holiday 
 ease and buoyancy of spirits in which we pur- 
 pose to indulge. Nor will it suit us to botanize, 
 dwelling on the dicotyledonous, monocotyledonous, 
 equisetacese, and other plants of the place ; for 
 even supposing that we understood them well our- 
 selves, it would take us more time than we have 
 to spare to explain them to others. On we must 
 go, like bees in a flower garden, with brief pauses, 
 hurrying from one spot to another. 
 
 We have somewhere read, that a pilgrim in 
 olden time, having heard that Malvern was famed 
 for three good things, asked a monk what they 
 were. The reply of the friar sets forth his 
 worldly mindedness, rather than his piety : 
 G 2 
 
66 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 
 
 '* 'I have seen,' said the pilgrim, 'the tremulous wave 
 
 That murmurs at Galilee still ; 
 But never so sweet did the shadow fall 
 As it falls o'er Malvern Hill. 
 
 ' I have wander'd afar, for my penance and pain, 
 
 Where the breezes of Lebanon blow ; 
 But richer the gales that o'er Malvern rise, 
 
 From the apple-trees bowering below. 
 
 ' The mountains are green and the land is good, 
 
 And your turrets are fair to see ; 
 And for three good things is Malvern famed 
 
 Now tell these three things unto me. 
 
 ' Oh, are they the shrine of our lady dear, 
 
 And the penance of Benedict's sway ; 
 And the third the well, with the waters clear, 
 
 That run to the rising ray?' 
 
 ' What knave,' cried the friar, ' could wander so far, 
 
 Yet hold us such ignorant elves ? 
 Sir Pilgrim, though beadsmen of penance may preach, 
 
 Yet they love somewhat better themselves. 
 
 ' Let pilgrims still drink of the crystalline spring, 
 
 And sinners on pilgrimage pass ; 
 Give beadsmen fresh salmon and dainty red deer, 
 
 And liquor that foams in the glass.' " 
 
 This account bears rather hard on the monastic 
 orders of days gone by, but we have neither time 
 to enter on their defence nor to inquire into the 
 truth of our story. Either the abbots, and priors, 
 and monks of " the olden time" have been sadly 
 calumniated, or they gave too much reason, in 
 many instances, to suspect the purity of their 
 1'ves, and the spirituality of their devotion. Let 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 67 
 
 us not, however, while we lament their errors, be 
 less severe towards our own. 
 
 Great Malvern, before the Conquest, stood in 
 the midst of a great forest ; but, since then, the 
 axe of the woodman has been at work to bring 
 down, and the trowel of the mason to build up. 
 The sylvan character of the place has receded, 
 and the social advanced. The leafy rnonarchs of 
 the forest are fewer, and the mansions of the 
 inhabitants are increased. 
 
 We have made one or two morning calls. We 
 have, met and conversed with the great water 
 doctors. We have seen the retired, sylvan resi- 
 dence of Dr. Gully, and Dr. Wilson's palace of a 
 house. We have visited the Library, Reading- 
 room, and Bazaar, gazed with admiration on the 
 imposing front of the old Abbey Gateway, entered 
 the church, pondered on the tombs, and again 
 sought the open air. 
 
 Every one who enters a ruined castle, a cathe- 
 dral, or a parish church, containing olden monu- 
 ments, is expected, on emerging from the same, 
 to talk for some time soberly and wisely thereon ; 
 nor would we willingly sanction any innovation 
 on this time-honoured and excellent custom. 
 Seeing, however, that we have prescribed to our- 
 selves a course which allows us not to linger, but, 
 on the contrary, hurries us onward, the reader 
 
68 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVEEN. 
 
 will, perhaps, be satisfied in being informed, that 
 the ancient Priory, now the parish church of 
 Great Malvern, is a venerable pile ; and, like all 
 other such monastic establishments, sets us musing 
 of other times, when monks, and cowls, and 
 cloisters retained their sombre influence. Its 
 windows, we understand, were once resplendent 
 with stained glass, to a degree of magnificence 
 but rarely equalled ; and, even now, after all the 
 dilapidation and destruction that have diminished 
 their varied beauty, they glow eifulgently with 
 violet, emerald, and ruby tints, that captivate the 
 eye and bewilder the imagination : 
 
 " Diamonded with panes of quaint device, 
 Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, 
 
 As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings ; 
 And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, 
 And twilight saints, and bright emblazonings, 
 The shielded 'scutcheons blush with blood of queens and 
 kings." 
 
 Oh that all the world could see this prospect ! 
 "We are sitting at a window commanding the 
 finest view imaginable, extensive and luxuriant in 
 the extreme. A richly wooded amphitheatre is 
 before us, with white villas peeping between the 
 trees. The old Abbey Church is on our right ; 
 and just in front are the loveliest of flower-gardens, 
 most tastefully arranged. The trees and the turf 
 are deliciously green, with a profusion of wall- 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. (J9 
 
 flowers that scent the atmosphere, while they 
 crown the tops of the walls and the summits of 
 the out-buildings. The gardens present a galaxy 
 of beautiful flowers, and the crows, that are 
 distantly sailing in the air, remind us of our 
 favourite seagulls hovering over the waves of the 
 angry ocean. Those beautiful white houses and 
 picturesque cottages, nestling amid luxuriant trees, 
 make the place a scene of enchantment. Let who 
 will sigh for the mountains of Switzerland, the 
 vineyards of France and Spain, and the sunny 
 scenes of Italy ; we are content with Malvern. 
 Sweetness, luxuriance, and beauty abound in the 
 prospects ; freshness and purity pervade the air, 
 and health is gushing from the hills in gurgling 
 streams : 
 
 " Tis fairy land ! The mellow'd light 
 
 Steals softly o'er the field and flowers; 
 And hearts are warm and eyes are bright, 
 As in life's early hours." 
 
 Again we are in the phaeton. Oh, such a 
 magnificent drive ! The hills so high, the mea- 
 dows so green, and studded with all the little 
 loves of flowers, cowslip, cuckoo flower, wild 
 crocus, hyacinth, buttercups, daisies, the blue 
 violet, wild strawberry blossom, and wild gera- 
 nium. We have visited Eastnor Castle, driving 
 through the beautiful and romantic park, where 
 
70 A SUNNY DAY AT HALVE RN. 
 
 the antlered and timid deer so swiftly run, and 
 the pheasants fly in such profusion. "We have 
 revelled amid hop-yards, with their high poles, 
 and mid apple and pear orchards, in luxuriant 
 hlossom. Herefordshire, with its four harvests of 
 hay, corn, hops, and apples, is a delightful 
 county. How fresh, how fragrant is the air ! how 
 bright the blue arch above, and how fair the 
 extended prospect around ! We have seen Camp 
 Hill, and the Obelisk, and the Cave, and the 
 "Wytche, an artificial cutting through the solid 
 rock, with its walls of hornblende, greenstone, 
 and mica, seventy or eighty feet above our heads. 
 We are now hastening to the Foley Arms to 
 dinner, and our donkey carriage is already ordered 
 to bear us up the hills. 
 
 There is a quaint old song on Malvern, said to 
 be written about the time of James i., that is 
 well worth the reading. The following are some 
 of its verses : 
 
 " Great Malvern on a rock, 
 
 Thou standest surely: 
 Do not thyself forget, 
 
 Living securely. 
 Thou hast of blessings store, 
 No country town hatk more, 
 Do not forget, therefore, 
 
 To praise the Lord. 
 
 The sun in glory great, 
 When first it riseth, 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 71 
 
 Doth bless thy happy seat, 
 
 And thee adviseth, 
 That then it's time to pray, 
 That God may bless thy way, 
 And keep thee all the day, 
 
 To praise the Lord 
 
 Out of that famous hill 
 
 There daily springeth 
 A water passing still, 
 
 Which always bringeth. 
 Great comfort to all them 
 That are diseased men, 
 And makes them well again, 
 
 To praise the Lord." 
 
 The Beacon ! the Beacon ! the Herefordshire 
 Beacon ! Here we are almost at the summit. 
 For nearly two miles have we been precipitously 
 ascending. Strangers are before us, winding 
 round the steep ; some boldly gazing around on 
 the glorious prospect, and others clinging to each 
 other as if fearing to topple down the side of the 
 precipice : 
 
 The wind, the wind, it wildly blows 
 In fitful blasts it comes and goes ; 
 Now whispering gusty, low, and shrill ; 
 Now loudly thundering round the hill. 
 
 "Wheugh ! R *s hat was all but gone, and 
 
 the bonnet of Miss Plinlimmon seems inclined for 
 a fly towards Cader Idris. Beautiful ! beautiful ! 
 we have now reached the summit, and the almost 
 boundless view is magnificence itself. We are 
 
7 2 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 
 
 nearly blown off our feet ; but the sun, the scene, 
 and the excitement are delightful. 
 
 To the north, we have the North Hill in the 
 foreground ; and far away behind it the Wrekin, 
 Clent Hills, and the Beacon over Dudley Castle. 
 Then to the right of these are the Lickey Hills, 
 which some say is the highest ground in England ; 
 but many spots have that character. Littleton, 
 and Mickleton Hills, with the productive vale of 
 Evesham, Broadway Hill, and Cleave Hill east- 
 ward. To the south are Cottiswold, the British 
 Channel, the Herefordshire Beacon, and the 
 Forest of Dean ; and on the west, the Black 
 Mountains of Wales, Hargist Ridge, and Warren 
 Mount. From the spot where we are now stand- 
 ing may be seen eleven counties, three cathedrals, 
 and a hundred parish churches. 
 
 The hill to the south-west yonder is Marcley 
 Hill, which, in the year 1571, was removed by an 
 earthquake a considerable distance from the place 
 it now occupies. It continued in motion, it is 
 said, two or three days, and carried away or 
 overturned everything that impeded its progress. 
 
 What a glorious day is this for so glorious a 
 scene ! one of those days when the distances are 
 so clear, and when the alternating shine and shade 
 present to the eye such green spots, with deep 
 contrasting patches of shadowy verdure ! Streams 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 73 
 
 of light are pouring from the sun towards the 
 Welsh horizon ; and yonder, to the north-east, is 
 a gorgeous rainbow spanning the heavens. This 
 enchanting scene is truly English. Match it if 
 you can, ye vales of Arcadia ! 
 
 Miss Plinlimmon Cadwallador, forgetting the 
 danger of those below, has somewhat inconside- 
 rately rolled down a stone from the summit of the 
 hill ; and R , moved with virtuous indig- 
 nation, is giving her an edifying lecture on broken 
 heads and bruised shins ; to which she meekly 
 replies, by way of self-justification, that having 
 seen other people roll down stones, she thought 
 she might do the same. Every moment we find 
 out fresh objects, every moment the scene grows 
 more delightful. 
 
 Some who were bold enough in going up the 
 hill are timid enough in going down. Who is 
 there that can descend a high hill without 
 moralizing ? 
 
 Proud man is at best, in the pride of his power, 
 Like the painted balloon, but the thing of an hour ; 
 Carried on by ambition, high-minded, and vain, 
 We may giddily soar, and look down with disdain. 
 But though high for a season we ride on the blast, 
 We are sure to come down to one level at last. 
 
 Cheerful, elated, and grateful, we return to our 
 hotel as the sun is setting. We have, indeed, had 
 a sunny season ! we have seen everything, and 
 
 H 
 
74 A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 
 
 enjoyed everything, and feel as if the pleasures of 
 a month had been crowded into a day. 
 
 A night of repose has succeeded our yesterday's 
 enjoyment, and we are now leaving Malvern by a 
 fresh route. Barnard's Green, with its pretty 
 white cottages, bee-hives, and little gardens 
 abounding with stocks, wall- flowers, white candy 
 tuft, pansies, and scarlet tulips, is very beautiful. 
 As we look back on Malvern, and the high hills 
 beyond, we are reminded of the Undercliff in the 
 Isle of Wight. The Rhydd, a seat of the Leche- 
 meres ; the Common of Black Hill, covered with 
 bosses of golden furze ; patches of trees, and 
 broken ground, and enlivened with cows, sheep, 
 and geese ; the Nunnery ; and the pretty country 
 church, called Northfield, have all their several 
 attractions ; but now we must alight, for our 
 friend from the principality is about to enter the 
 rural churchyard of Northfield, where the remains 
 of her much beloved mother are interred. Oh ! 
 it is a sweet place in which to muse calmly, and 
 reflect profitably on the past, the present, and the 
 future. Why do Christian people so often afflict 
 themselves over the resting-places of their pious 
 friends ? 
 
 As we journey onwards, breathing the balmy 
 air, and gazing on the varied landscape, we call to 
 mind our yesterday with exultation. Reader, look 
 
A SUNNY DAY AT MALVERN. 75 
 
 around you with a keener glance, and you will 
 regard your country with a new affection. Believe 
 us, she has for those who love her scenes of fresh- 
 ness, sweetness, and cheerful beauty, far lovelier 
 than those of other lands. Go to Cumberland, 
 Westmoreland, Derbyshire, and Devonshire ; to 
 Richmond, Windcliff-on-the-Wye, and a hun- 
 dred other delightful spots, and you will be con- 
 vinced of our assertion ; but if, after all, you are 
 still sceptical, and would put the things beyond a 
 doubt, why then form a pleasant party, go forth 
 with a buoyant spirit, and a grateful heart, and 
 spend a sunny day at Malvern. 
 
EVERY CRIME HAS ITS 
 PUNISHMENT. 
 
 WOULD that my appeal could meet every eye ; 
 would that the truth could be impressed on every 
 heart, that as every evil seed bears evil fruit, so 
 every crime has its punishment. Doubt it who 
 may, deny it who will 
 
 A guilty day shall bring a gloomy morrow ; 
 And every sin succeeded be by sorrow. 
 
 Look at mankind narrowly, and you will per- 
 ceive more clearly than ever the truth of God's 
 holy word, "There is no peace to the wicked." 
 The neglecter of duty and the great transgressor 
 are punished, from the unprofitable servant who 
 hides the talent he is bound to improve, to the 
 red-handed murderer who "hunts for the precious 
 life." Every shade, and grade, and degree of sin 
 is visited, in one way or another, with its appro- 
 priate punishment ; sometimes by a deprivation 
 of enjoyment, and sometimes by shame and 
 suffering. 
 
 Some think it no crime to hoard up useless 
 wealth ; but he who does no good, relieves no 
 
EVERY CRIME HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 77 
 
 distress, removes no evil, and prevents no crime, 
 when God has given him the power to do all, is 
 living a life of ingratitude and practical iniquity. 
 It is a sin to hoard up useless riches, and heavy 
 is its punishment. Is it no punishment to be 
 deprived of the sweet sleep of the man without 
 care, and to be prevented by fear of loss from the 
 enjoyment of slumber ? Is it no punishment to 
 be shut out from the happiness of doing good ? 
 To be debarred from the blessing of the widow 
 and the fatherless ? To live unhonoured, and to 
 die unlamented? Assuredly, in these and other 
 respects, the punishment of the selfishly rich 
 man is heavy : 
 
 We need not grudge the godless rich their stuff, 
 Whate'er it be, for they are poor enough ; 
 While he that fears the Lord, though small his store, 
 Is rich indeed you cannot make him poor. 
 
 Is a man proud ? he shall be brought low : is 
 he idle ? he shall be clothed with rags : is he 
 deceitful ? his mouth shall be filled with gravel : 
 is he a slanderer ? he shall be cut off : and if he 
 is angry and revengeful, the stone that he casts 
 into the air shall descend on his own pate. There 
 is no escaping the punishment that follows crime ; 
 it clings to a man like his skin ; dogs his steps 
 like his own shadow ; goes out and comes in with 
 him ; attends him at his board and in his bed- 
 H 2 
 
78 EVERY CRIME HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 
 
 chamber, and is alike his companion in the mid- 
 day and the midnight hour : 
 
 No earthly power can ward the coming blow : 
 Sorrow and sin through life together go. 
 
 What a punishment is borne by the envious 
 man ! He cannot rejoice in the prosperity of his 
 neighbour ; his pulse quickens not at the happi- 
 ness of his friend. With a jaundiced mind he 
 looks around, and that which ought to be to him 
 a source of delight, becomes a blight to his eye, 
 and a mildew to his heart. Go where he may, he 
 takes that with him which robs him of his peace ; 
 for his envy renders him unthankful, destroys the 
 bond of brotherhood between him and his fellows ; 
 turns his love into hatred, and his honey into 
 wormwood and gall : 
 
 In vain a thousand blessings may be sent, 
 Where envy reigns there must be punishment. 
 
 Seldom does vice leap upon a man like a tiger 
 at one bound, it usually glides into his path as a 
 serpent ; but come as it may, it always brings with 
 it a sharp fang, or a poisoned sting. He who 
 takes to drinking, hardly ever intends to become 
 a drunkard ; but the liquor sparkles in the glass ; 
 the fire burns brightly, and his companions are 
 cheerful and gay. Night after night he finds his 
 way to the pot-house or the tavern, and cup after 
 cup, and glass after glass are indulged in, till his 
 
EVERY CHIME HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 79 
 
 bad habit is confirmed, and want, wretchedness, 
 crimes, and punishment pursue him. Sin, as a 
 serpent, has enfolded his foot, his hand, his head, 
 his body, and his mind ; and sorrow and suffering 
 become his constant companions. The ne^ro 
 slave is manacled against his will : 
 
 Not so the drunkard ; he has sought 
 The bondage that his sins have wrought; 
 And he may cry amid his pains, 
 And his despair, " I made my chains ! " 
 
 How stealthily the housebreaker draws near the 
 dwelling he is about to plunder ! how dexterously 
 he uses the cutting centre-bit, and the wrenching 
 crow-bar, in the midnight hour, when no eye sees 
 him ! Did I say, no eye sees him ? Oh ! but 
 there is an eye that sees him, an All-seeing Eye, 
 one that pierces through the gloom of night, and 
 penetrates the darkness. It may be, that for the 
 time he is successful, and bears away his booty 
 unpursued. He may enjoy the pleasures of sin 
 for a season, and revel with his companions ; but 
 does he on this account escape his punishment ? 
 That is impossible. He quarrels with his com- 
 panions, and they betray him ; by day he is pur- 
 sued by the officers of justice, and by night he 
 fears to be surprised. The maddening draught 
 and the midnight song are but short respites to 
 his cares : 
 
80 EVERY CHIME HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 
 
 He drains the cup to cheer his aching heart 
 In vain, for sin and sorrow never part. 
 
 But what if years roll on, and the grasp of 
 iron-handed justice be evaded ; what if, grown 
 hardened in iniquity, the daring burglar becomes 
 a highway robber, terrifying the timid, overcoming 
 the bold with force ; living a life of violence and 
 pillage, and revelling in the wages of iniquity 
 has he no punishment? Think what a punish- 
 ment it must be to go skulking through byways, 
 with his hat over his brows, not daring to appear 
 among men ; to go stealthily in dark nooks and 
 corners, like a bat, or an owl, that cannot bear the 
 light of day. The habitation of honesty, the 
 hearth of innocent cheerfulness, the abode of 
 peace he knows not ; and as to the house of God, 
 he feels as if its doors were bolted and barred 
 against him. It is as though an angel with a 
 naming sword stood guarding its entrance from 
 being denied with his presence. He is a guilty 
 outcast ; a miserable fugitive on the face of the 
 earth : 
 
 Who sells himself to sin, must surely bear 
 The punishment of sorrow and despair. 
 
 Murder, foulest of crimes between man and 
 man, what a Cain-like mark is branded on thy 
 brow ! what a punishment is rankling in thine 
 agonizing heart ! The very dead may be said to 
 
EVERY CRIMI HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 81 
 
 rise up against thee from their graves. Who 
 says, "Dead men tell no tales?" The red- 
 handed ruffian who, to screen himself from justice, 
 takes away the life of the man he has plundered, 
 may think so before he strikes the blow, but he 
 does not think so after. No tales ! Does he tell 
 no tale whose dead body being drawn up from the 
 bottom of the water, holds in his clenched hand a 
 piece of cloth exactly fitting the torn jacket of the 
 felon standing in the dock, about to be tried for 
 his life ? Does he tell no tale, pale as his face, 
 and motionless as his tongue may be, in whose 
 death-wound is found a ball wrapped in a piece of 
 paper, agreeing with a torn ballad in the pocket of 
 the assassin? And did he tell no tale, when, 
 murdered, buried, and covered with lime to de- 
 stroy his features, his false teeth proclaimed his 
 identity ? Who says, " Dead men tell no tales ?" 
 Rather let him say, that dead men cry aloud, for 
 every mortal wound has a tongue, crying even to 
 Heaven against the murderer. The crimson stains 
 may be washed away from the stones ; the knife 
 which did the deed may be cleansed ; and the 
 hand of the murderer may be washed : but will 
 this purge the guilty conscience ? The murderer 
 hears the cry and the dying groans of his victim 
 in silence, and sees his mangled body in the dark- 
 ness of the midnight hour. It ever will be so, for 
 
82 EVERY CRIME HAS ITS PUNISHMENT. 
 
 where crime is, there must be also disquietude and 
 fear : " The wicked flee when no man pursueth : 
 but the righteous are bold as a lion," Prov. xxviii. 
 1 , The murderer feels that he cannot escape : 
 
 He sees a barrier that he cannot pass; 
 
 The earth is iron, and the heavens are brass. 
 
 Sin is a leprosy that may be concealed for a 
 time, but it cannot be hidden for ever. Be sure, 
 whatever may be your iniquity, your sin will find 
 you out. If, then, you have sinned and who is 
 there that sinneth not? haste to the fountain 
 open for all uncleanness. Nothing but the blood 
 of Jesus can blot out sin. " If we say we have 
 no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is 
 not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful 
 and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse 
 us from all unrighteousness/' 1 John i. 8, 9. 
 
 Many willingly deceive themselves into the 
 belief that they can sin in secrecy and safety ; 
 therefore, once more let it be remembered 
 
 A guilty day shall bring a gloomy morrow, 
 And every sin succeeded be by sorrow. 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 A STORY FOR THE SELFISH. 
 
 MANY are the besetting sins that win their 
 way in human hearts, urging men onward in their 
 wild career of lawless passion, grasping covetous- 
 ness, tyranny, cruelty, and infidelity ; but the 
 most common of all sins is selfishness. Other 
 sins prevail, but this is universal : 
 
 Some worship power, ambition, glory, pelf, 
 Or fleeting fame ; but all bow down to self. 
 Self is the god, the calf of golden ore, 
 The Dagon idol that mankind adore. 
 
 But common and universal as is this sin, every 
 one cries out against it ; and there are thousands 
 who have credit with themselves for benevolence 
 and disinterestedness, whose almost every action 
 springs from selfishness. 
 
 Of this large class of people, the Feltons 
 formed a part ; but had such an insinuation 
 reached their ears, every one of them would have 
 indignantly repelled the accusation. What ! 
 Mr. Felton, the churchwarden, who had liberally 
 given a perpetual donation to the poor ; Mrs. 
 
84 THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 Felton, who had a Dorcas Society under her OWL 
 direction ; and Miss Fanny Felton, the maiden 
 sister of Mr. Felton, who had wellnigh sup- 
 ported, by her own purse, a whole family of poor 
 relations for a space of two years ! Could there, 
 by any possibility, be a particle of selfishness in 
 their hearts? Impossible! and yet, notwith- 
 standing this seeming impossibility, such was the 
 case. Mr. Felton, good easy man, suspected not 
 that a churchwarden, in giving a perpetual dona- 
 tion to the poor, might have an eye to the 
 golden-lettered tablet that would be erected in 
 the church to record the generous deed. Mrs. 
 Felton never dreamed, not she, that pride could 
 have anything to do with her presiding among 
 her friends, and dunning her neighbours for sub- 
 scriptions to purchase calico shirts and flannel 
 petticoats ; and still less, if possible, did it ever 
 enter the head of Miss Fanny, that the delight of 
 dictating to her poor relatives, and tyrannizing 
 over them, could be an ingredient in her gene- 
 rosity. No ! if any family were free from selfish- 
 ness, it was, in their own estimation, at least, the 
 family of the Feltons. 
 
 Mr. Felton, like many others who have risen 
 from a humble origin, not having Christian prin- 
 ciple to keep him lowly, became purse-proud, 
 ostentatious, and consequential ; and though this 
 exposed him to the derision of those above him, 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 85 
 
 and the hatred of those beneath him, yet did he 
 contrive to secure the outward manifestations of 
 respect. Mr. Felton had a quick eye to every- 
 thing which had a tendency to increase his im- 
 portance, and to this very questionable quality 
 might be traced his apparently benevolent deter- 
 mination to give to the poor a donation of fifty 
 pounds. 
 
 Oh ! how deceitful the heart must be when it 
 can persuade its possessor that a deed of pure 
 selfishness is an act of charity and generosity ! 
 When we find it is declared in Holy Writ to 
 be " deceitful above all things, and desperately 
 wicked," how watchful should we be to regulate 
 its emotions ! how vigilant to restrain its selfish 
 propensities ! 
 
 When Mr. Felton gave his donation, he, of 
 course, modestly and becomingly intimated an 
 objection to his name appearing in the church, 
 and, of course, this objection was, without very 
 great difficulty, removed, he being easily con- 
 vinced that his neighbours knew much better than 
 himself what was proper in such a case. The 
 consequence was that, with all due despatch, an 
 additional benefaction tablet appeared in the 
 church of St. Chad's, setting forth, to wit, that 
 Frederick Felton, Esq., of Felton Grange, had 
 generously bequeathed the interest of fifty pounds 
 
86 THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 to the poor of the parish for ever, to be given to 
 them in loaves of bread, or other sustenance, on 
 the morning of each St. Thomas's day. 
 It has been written, 
 
 " Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, 
 Will never mark the marble with his name." 
 
 But had Mr. Felton been the builder of a church t 
 he would have paid very little attention to this 
 poetic exhortation. 
 
 The poor of St. Chad's were unquestionably 
 benefited by Mr. Frederick Felton' s donation, but 
 neither was he himself without sundry advantages 
 and immunities derivable from the same source. 
 In the first place, it established his reputation for 
 generosity and charity, while it defended him 
 from many pecuniary applications that would 
 have been made to him had he not given the 
 donation. Then there was the grand field-day 
 the day of St. Thomas in which he figured 
 away as commander-in-chief, in marshalling the 
 poor, and distributing the loaves ; and in addition 
 to these things, his pride was greatly gratified ; 
 for whenever visitors came to his house, they 
 were sure to be taken to see the church, and 
 when at the church they were equally sure to 
 have their attention directed to the benefaction 
 tablet, where the name of Frederick Felton, Esq., 
 so ostentatiously glittered. Taking one thing 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 87 
 
 with another, Mr. Felton was really repaid with 
 usury for the outlay of his fifty pounds. 
 
 Mr. Felton read his Prayer-book aloud on the 
 Sunday, and he read his Bible at his family de- 
 votions ; but there was one book that he never 
 could read, and that was the book of his own 
 heart. Had one page of this sealed volume been 
 opened to the eyes of his understanding, he would 
 have been affrighted at its contents, for he would 
 have seen that he had not one particle of Chris- 
 tian charity. As it was, he was altogether igno- 
 rant of this truth, and the words of the apostle 
 were to him unintelligible : " Though I speak 
 with the tongues of men and of angels, and have 
 not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a 
 tinkling cymbal. And though I bestow all my 
 goods to feed the poor, and though I give my 
 body to be burned, and have not charity, it pro- 
 fiteth me nothing," 1 Cor. xiii. 1. 3. 
 
 But if Mr. Felton, though he always applied 
 the text especially to himself, " Blessed is he 
 which considereth the poor, the Lord will deliver 
 him in time of trouble," was deficient in true 
 Christian charity, it could hardly be said with 
 truth that his fair partner in this respect had any 
 advantage over him. Mrs. Felton was a lady of 
 some conrpanionable qualities ; and as long as she 
 was permitted to take the lead and have her own 
 
88 THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 way, made herself very agreeable. Unhappily, 
 however, she had fallen into the error of con- 
 cluding that everybody was bound to support 
 every cause she took in hand. Had she reflected 
 with more judgment, she would have been aware 
 that Christians undertake a variety of duties, and 
 that it is quite lawful for those who have not the 
 means of attending to them all, to confine them- 
 selves to such as they have the ability to dis- 
 charge. 
 
 Mrs. Felton' s hobby was to supply with cloth- 
 ing the poor of her own and the neighbouring 
 parishes ; and, in furtherance of this object, her 
 applications to her neighbours were incessant. In 
 these applications Mrs. Felton had not the slight- 
 est compunction or delicacy. She bored her way 
 with the same relentless obduracy, whether she 
 called on a wealthy neighbour, or on one who 
 maintained her respectability of appearance by 
 the most scrupulous regard to economy. Mrs. 
 Felton took no denial. If the lady were out, she 
 would " call again ;" if she was engaged, she would 
 " wait till she was at liberty;" and if at a meal, 
 she would not detain her " more than a minute." 
 Thus did she not only play the part of a bunch 
 of stinging nettles, rendering herself objectionable 
 to all around her, but also injured the religious 
 character she assumed. This was not intended 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 89 
 
 by her, but she knew not her own heart, and was 
 blind to her own errors. 
 
 Mrs. Felton was so mu^h occupied in obtaining 
 funds, and presiding at her Dorcas Society, that 
 she manifested little judgment in selecting her 
 objects of charity, and frequently the evil she in- 
 flicted, by obtaining subscriptions of those who 
 could not afford to give them, was greater than the 
 good she conferred on the recipients of her bounty. 
 Mrs. Felton would have met with a formidable 
 rival in her husband's sister, had not the latter 
 occupied a sphere of selfishness exclusively her 
 own. 
 
 It has already been intimated that Miss Fanny, 
 the maiden sister of Mr. Felton, had rendered 
 considerable assistance to a family of poor rela- 
 tions. A specimen of the spirit in which she 
 carried out her kind intentions to her humbler 
 relatives must be given. She had called on the 
 poor widow to leave money with her to pay her 
 rent, when the following remarks fell from her 
 lips : 
 
 " Now remember, Mrs. Roberts, though I pay 
 you your rent this time, I never intend to do it 
 again. You and your family have cost me no end 
 of money, and I do not see that I should support 
 you and impoverish myself." 
 i 2 
 
90 THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 The poor widow, with her pale face and half- 
 broken heart, looked at her pitifully, but spoke 
 not a word. 
 
 " Mrs. Rudge, Mrs. Harper, and Mrs. Raw- 
 lins, all tell me that I do too much for you ; that 
 there is reason in all things, and that they are 
 quite sure if it had not been for me, you and your 
 children would before now have been in the work- 
 house." 
 
 Had Miss Fanny really possessed Christian 
 charity, Mrs. Rudge, Mrs. Harper, and Mrs. 
 Rawlins would have known little or nothing 
 about the matter ; and had the latter had any 
 proper feeling, they would have felt ashamed of 
 their hard-heartedness. 
 
 " I see that you have put new ribands to the 
 bonnet that I gave you. I should have thought 
 that the old ribands would have done very well, 
 but you know better than I do. If you can afford 
 to be always buying new ribands, it is more than 
 I can do ; but it is my duty to tell you, Mrs. 
 Roberts, that I shall set my face against such 
 silly extravagance." 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Roberts meekly re- 
 minded her tyrannous benefactress that when she 
 gave her the bonnet it had but one string ; and, 
 furthermore, humbly informed her that she had 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 91 
 
 not bought the ribands, but that they had been 
 given her by a kind friend ; for this only made 
 things worse. 
 
 " Oh ! kind friends, indeed ! Then you have 
 kind friends, have you, Mrs. Roberts, who are 
 willing to supply you with finery ? You can have 
 very little need, then, of my assistance. I wonder 
 that your kind friends have never thought of pay- 
 ing your rent for you, and making you presents 
 of bonnets and gowns, and sending you coals and 
 potatoes, as I have done. It is high time for me 
 to look about me, and see if I cannot find a few 
 of the kind friends of which you have so many." 
 
 After thus oppressing the widow and the father- 
 less, Miss Fanny Felton laid down, with very great 
 zeal and very little kindness, a multiplicity of sage 
 remarks, rules, and regulations, for the benefit of 
 Mrs. Roberts, as though, by the extension of her 
 purse-strings, she had acquired an indisputable 
 right to control and direct her thoughts, her 
 words, and her deeds. She then hastened away 
 to make a call on Mrs. Rudge, Mrs. Harper, and 
 Mrs. Rawlins, to tell them that, notwithstanding 
 their friendly counsel, she had been foolishly good- 
 natured enough once more to pay Mrs. Roberts' s 
 rent. 
 
 The delusions of a selfish heart are numberless 
 their " name is Legion ;" nor can we reasonably 
 
92 THE FELTON FAMILY. 
 
 hope to escape their deceitful influence till, changed 
 by Almighty power, we become meek and lowly 
 followers of the Redeemer : 
 
 His grace and goodness will control 
 The grasping passions of the soul ; 
 The power of Christian love display, 
 And drive the selfish fiend away. 
 
 Neither the popularity of Mr. Felton, nor that 
 of his wife and sister, was to last for ever ; for, in 
 course of time, another churchwarden was ap- 
 pointed. The new churchwarden's wife not only 
 took precedence of Mrs. Felton, but became also 
 a good friend to the poor widow and her children. 
 All this was too severe a test to the selfish prin- 
 ciples of the Felton family ; and when they found 
 that they could no longer enjoy an undisputed 
 reign in their several spheres of action, they at 
 once abandoned even the appearance of benevo- 
 lence. Mr. Felton began to litigate with the parish 
 to get back again the perpetual donation he had 
 given ; Mrs. Felton broke up the Dorcas Society; 
 and Miss Fanny Felton altogether withdrew her 
 protection and patronage from her poor relation. 
 
 We will not for a moment censure Mr. Felton 
 for giving fifty pounds to the poor, or Mrs. Felton 
 for clothing the needy, or Miss Felton for render- 
 ing assistance to her humble relative ; for though 
 almsgiving is only one part, it is a very important 
 
THE FELTON FAMILY. 93 
 
 part of Christian charity. The error of the Pel- 
 tons was in the selfish principle from which their 
 acts proceeded. Oh that, with godly sincerity, 
 we were all desirous to be purged of our earthly 
 errors, and to be influenced by heavenly aspira- 
 tions ! 
 
 Christian charity is the very opposite of selfish- 
 ness, for it leads us to practise not only kindness, 
 but meekness, forbearance, and self-denial : " Cha- 
 rity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth 
 not ; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 
 doth not behave itself unseemly, 'seeketh not her 
 own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; re- 
 joiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; 
 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 
 things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth. 
 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; 
 but the greatest of these is charity," 1 Cor. xiii. 
 48, 13. 
 
 Reader, let not this appeal to you be in vain. 
 Put to yourself these questions : Am I seeking 
 God's glory, or my own? Am I striving to serve 
 others, or myself? Is it my desire truly to prac- 
 tise Christian charity, or do I belong to the family 
 of the Feltons ? 
 
THE CHANGING SEASONS. 
 
 How fair is creation! How beautiful the 
 dwelling-place of man ! How much has our 
 Almighty Maker done for our comfort and joy, 
 and how little have we returned in thankfulness 
 and praise! The changing seasons as they fall 
 condemn us : let us view them all. 
 
 It is winter keen, frosty winter. The green 
 leaves of spring have long been sere ; the flowers 
 of summer are faded away ; the abundance of 
 autumn has been gathered in : but come, let us 
 walk abroad. How the frozen snow crackles 
 under the foot, and how bracing and spirit- 
 stirring is the nipping air ! The hedger, in his 
 mittens, with his bill-hook in his hand, is 
 sprinkled with the hoar frost ; the woodcock 
 wings his way like an arrow along the banks of 
 the icy brook, and the red-berried holly looks 
 more cheerful than it did in spring. Cold, with 
 his shaggy cloak wrapped round him, walks 
 abroad ; but hardihood, and health, and lusty 
 vigour, are in his train. Winter may have a 
 frowning face, but he has a kind heart, and 
 
THE CHANGING SEASONS. 95 
 
 many are the benefits he bestows. Ungrateful 
 man! 
 
 To fertilize thy fields, fall winter's snows, 
 And for thy good the blustering tempest blows. 
 
 It is spring fresh, fragrant spring! Let us 
 walk abroad in nature's garden, breathing the 
 breeze, perfumed as it is with varied sweets. 
 Hawthorns are spreading forth their snowy trea- 
 sures. Horse chestnuts arrest the eye and glad- 
 den the heart with their forests of flowers, and 
 buttercups extend their yellow glory. Bright 
 and blue is the sky, and the voices of birds are 
 never silent, for the nightingales are still singing 
 night and day their sweet and entrancing strains. 
 Hope smiles on all around, and bright- eyed 
 expectation casts a sunny glance on hills and 
 dales. Ungrateful man ! 
 
 The birds, the flowers, the sunbeams as they shine, 
 And all the varied charms of spring are thine. 
 
 And yet thy tongue is silent? "It is a good 
 thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing 
 praises unto thy name, O Most High," Psa. xcii. 1. 
 It is summer bright, sunny summer, the 
 jubilee of creation ! and the eye, the ear, and the 
 heart are alike delighted. Let us walk abroad. 
 The trees, the hedges, and the fields abound 
 with beauty, as if unseen hands, prodigal of abun- 
 dance, had been flinging around foliage and 
 
06 THE CHANGING SEASONS. 
 
 flowers. The feathery tribes are holding a 
 general concert, the insect world is keeping 
 holiday, and the sun is rejoicing in the kindling 
 skies. No wonder that the lark is in the air, that 
 the bee and butterfly are abroad, and that the 
 milkmaid is singing in the lovely valley. Cheer- 
 fulness is roving far and wide, and joy and mirth 
 point to the goodly scenes, and laugh aloud. 
 Ungrateful man ! 
 
 The warbling birds, the balmy breezes free, 
 Earth, air, and kindling skies are all for thee. 
 
 And yet thy heart glows not with gratitude. Let 
 us praise God for his works in Nature, and still 
 more for his work of redemption : " O come, 
 let us sing unto the Lord : let us make a joyful 
 noise to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come 
 before his presence with thanksgiving, and make 
 a joyful noise unto him with psalms," Psa. 
 xcv. 1, 2. 
 
 It is autumn goodly, glowing autumn ; and 
 ruddy orchards, and fields of golden grain, waving 
 in the wind, gladden the gazer's eye. Let us 
 walk abroad. The scythe, tlje sickle, and the 
 bean-hook are at work, and man is gathering in 
 his crops into his garner and securing the recom- 
 pense of his toil. The red poppies dazzle the 
 sight ; the brook glitters in the .sun like silver. 
 How brightly blue are the corn-flowers, and how 
 
THE CHANGING SEASONS. 97 
 
 very beautiful is the green, yellow, orange, and 
 brown foliage of the forest trees ! Labour, sun- 
 burnt labour, is abroad ; and plenty and abun- 
 dance, hand in hand, roam over the wide-spread 
 fields. Ungrateful man ! 
 
 For thee the teeming hills and vales abound, 
 And autumn pours his boundless stores around. 
 
 And still thou blessest not the name of thy 
 Creator : " Bless the Lord, O my soul ; and all 
 that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the 
 Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits," 
 Psa. ciii. 1, 2. 
 
 The changing seasons are proofs of our 
 heavenly Father's care. Winter, spring, sum- 
 mer, and autumn, are but varied declarations of 
 his goodness. Creation and revelation, as mes- 
 sengers of the Almighty, both cry aloud, " O the 
 depth of the riches both of the wisdom and know- 
 ledge of God ! how unsearchable are his judg- 
 ments, and his ways past finding out," Rom. 
 xi. 33. If the goodness of God thus appeals in 
 his works to our eyes, and in his word to our 
 understanding and our hearts, why then do not 
 our souls magnify the Lord ? " Praise ye the 
 Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary : praise him 
 in the firmament of his power. Let everything 
 that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the 
 Lord," Psa. cl. 1, 6. 
 
 K 
 
ON MENTAL REVELRY. 
 
 SUCH of my readers as are fond of old manners 
 and customs are probably aware that in days gone 
 by it once was the practice, at Christmas time, 
 wherever the court of the king was held, to ap- 
 point a master of the revels, under the name of 
 " the lord of misrule." The very name of this 
 lord very significantly announces his privilege and 
 occupation, which was that of setting on foot 
 about as much riot and disorder as he could com- 
 pass. Sometimes he was called " the abbot of 
 unreason," and at others " the master of merry 
 disports ;" but however he was called, folly and 
 mischief were his mission. 
 
 There is scarcely a more contagious disease than 
 that of folly ; no wonder, then, that the custom 
 of the court should in time be imitated by the 
 country at large. The London lawyers at Lincoln' s- 
 inn, Gray's-inn, and the two Temples, appointed 
 their masters of the revels, and, at last, an ap- 
 pointment of the same kind was made at common 
 parish festivals. One Philip Stubs was so moved 
 with disgust by the ribald buffoonery of these 
 
ON MENTAL REVELKY. 99 
 
 proceedings, that he describes them in nearly the 
 following manner : 
 
 " First of all the wilde heades of the parishe, 
 conventynge together, chuse them a grand capi- 
 taine (of mischeef ), whom they innoble with the 
 title of my lorde of misserule ; ' that is, miss- 
 rule, or wrong-rule, as we say, do wrong, or amiss,' 
 and hym they crown with great solemnitie, and 
 adopt for their kyng. This kyng anoynted, chuseth 
 for the twentie, fourtie, three score, or a hundred, 
 like to himself, to waite uppon his lordely majestie, 
 and to guard his noble persone. Then every one 
 of these his menne, he investeth with his liveries 
 of greene, yellowe, or some other light, wanton 
 colour. And, as though that were not gaudie 
 enough, they bedecke themselves with scarifes, 
 ribons, and laces, hanged all over with golden 
 rynges, precious stones, and other jewelles : this 
 doen, they tye about either leggie twentie or 
 fourtie belles, with rich hande-ker-cheefes in their 
 handes, and sometymes laied acrosse over their 
 shoulders and neckes, borrowed for the moste 
 parte of their pretie and loovyng Bessies. Thus 
 thinges sette in order, they have their hobbie 
 horses, dragons, and other antiques, together with 
 their gaudie pypers and thunderyng drommers, to 
 strike up the morris daunce withall, then marche 
 these heathen companie towardes the churche and 
 
100 ON MENTAL REVELKY. 
 
 churche yarde, their pipers pipyng, drommers 
 thonderyng, their stumpes dauricyng, their belles 
 iyngling, their handkercheefes swyngyng about 
 their heades like madmen, their hobbie horses, 
 and other monsters skyrmishyng amongst the 
 throng : and in this sorte they goe to the churche 
 (though the minister bee at praier or preachyng), 
 dauncyng and swyngyng their handkercheefes over 
 their heades, in the churche, like devilles incar- 
 nate, with suche a confused noise, that no man 
 can heare his own voice. Then the foolishe people 
 they looke, they stare, they laugh, they fleere, and 
 mount uppon formes and pewes, to see these 
 goodly pageauntes in this sort." 
 
 Hardly do I know, after this description, what 
 you will think of Old Humphrey putting himseli 
 forward for the appointment of master of the 
 revels, and yet such is unquestionably his inten- 
 tion ; scarcely, however, will you believe that he 
 really purposes to run into the foolish vagaries 
 already described. 
 
 There are revels of a very different kind to those 
 which were led by the lords of misrule of days 
 gone by, and of these I have been a free partaker. 
 I allude to the revels of the heart ; to those mental 
 revels well known to the lovers of nature when 
 wandering amid the glowing scenes and romantic 
 solitudes of this beautiful creation. To expend 
 
ON MENTAL REVELRY. 101 
 
 our sympathies in sentimental musings on natural 
 objects, without the homage of the heart to their 
 great and Almighty Giver, is little better than an 
 idle waste of the faculties of the soul ; but highly 
 to estimate the works of God, and joyfully to 
 ponder on them, as his gracious gifts, is no incon- 
 sistency in an humble-minded follower of the 
 Redeemer. When Elihu directed the attention 
 of Job to the lightning and the thunder, the snow 
 and the rain, the heavens and the face of the world 
 in the earth, he exhorts him to " stand still, and 
 consider the wondrous works of God/ 5 Job xxxvii. 
 14. To me it is a delightful thing to revel on 
 the hill and in the valley, in the wood and on the 
 water : let me, then, in this sense, for the time 
 being, become master of the revels, and at once 
 introduce you to some of the scenes that have 
 moved me to admiration and praise. 
 
 It was on the first escape from a sick chamber, 
 that, with a languid frame and an humbled spirit, 
 I trod the velvet softness of a green common, lit 
 up with sunbeams after the rain. On the right 
 lay a thick wood ; on the left, by an old wall, 
 grew a poplar, an ash, and a birch-tree, while the 
 rich green common before me was ornamented 
 with broom and furze-bushes. The clear blue sky 
 above was as a " molten looking-glass," and the 
 fresh breeze that fanned my brow was as balm to 
 K 2 
 
102 ON MENTAL REVELRY. 
 
 me, soothing and refreshing my spirit. My heart 
 melted within me with thankfulness as I greedily 
 drank in the grateful air. I was alone, so that it 
 seemed as if for me the heaven was arrayed with 
 loveliness, and the earth with beauty. I could 
 have clung to the poplar, the ash, and the birch ! 
 I could have regarded the very furze-bush with 
 affection ; nay, anything, everything, from the 
 tuft of moss on the mouldering wall to the giant 
 oak that groweth in the woods. But enough ! 
 If you are not a stranger to mental revelling, if 
 you know anything of the silent rejoicings of the 
 spirit, and the inaudible hallelujahs of the heart, 
 you will understand my emotions ; and if you do 
 not, my words might as well have been flung to 
 the winds. 
 
 I was seated in a little boat that was slowly and 
 silently borne along by the flowing stream, mar- 
 gined with rushes, and flags, and water-lilies ; and 
 never did Venetian gondola glide more smoothly 
 along the tranquil waters. I had no painted prow 
 and silken sails, nor did the soft guitar afford me 
 pleasure, keeping time with the rower's stroke. 
 Enough that I was sailing on the river, between 
 green pastures, where sheep were quietly grazing, 
 with the finny tribe leaping around me, while the 
 lark, lost in the blue sky, was warbling a sunny 
 song. The crystal streams, the green meadows, 
 
ON MENTAL REVELRY. 103 
 
 and the peaceful heavens harmoniously blended, 
 and the dear delight absorbed my very being. Un- 
 kindness, covetousness, and pride were banished, 
 and gentleness, and love, and thankfulness held 
 their empire in my heart : 
 
 " If heaven and earth, with beauty fraught, 
 Lean to His throne thy raptured thought; 
 If there thou lovest His love to read, 
 Then, rev'ler, thou art blest indeed !*' 
 
 I remember a ditch-revel that yielded me great 
 pleasure. I had won, with some difficulty, a bull- 
 rush from the sedgy brook, and wandered with it 
 in my hand, till I came to a grassy hillock, nearly 
 surrounded by a hedge, so rich in varied foliage, 
 and a ditch so profusely decked with weeds and 
 wild flowers, that I was carried away by the sight. 
 Over the green mound bent two or three birch- 
 trees, with their beautiful bark. I seated myself, 
 and gazed around with wonder on the black- 
 thorn, dog-rose, and wild plum-trees ; on the dock, 
 dandelion, and rough oat- grass ; the thistle, wild 
 teasel, and purple foxglove ; the featherfew, horse- 
 tail, and red eyebright ; the silver weed, cinque- 
 foil, bushy-groundsel, and stinging-nettle. The 
 tangled wilderness was on a miniature scale, but 
 prodigal in beauty. There I sat, like a sultan, on 
 my grassy throne, with my bulrush-sceptre in my 
 hand, so affluent in sunbeams, sylvan seclusion 
 
104 ON MENTAL KEVELLiY. 
 
 and the gorgeous pageantry of autumnal- tinted 
 vegetation, that I felt far richer than the Roths- 
 childs. There was a wild variety, a boundless 
 prodigality, and an indescribable beauty in the 
 lovely scene, and I revelled therein uninterrupt- 
 edly. Joy is but an indifferent word to express 
 my emotions. I was absorbed in grateful delight, 
 and lost in passive ecstasy ! 
 
 Did you ever observe the fine effect of the re- 
 flection of the setting sun in smooth water, when 
 one sun is seen in the liquid expanse and another 
 in the skies? The revel that I once had in a 
 scene of this kind will not soon be blotted from 
 my memory. The setting sun, gorgeous in glory, 
 was mirrored in a glassy lake, partly surrounded 
 with peaked mountains. The western end of the 
 lake having no visible boundary, seemed to mingle 
 with the skies. The glittering heavens above were 
 brightly reflected, and the sun that was setting 
 was confronted with the sun that was rising. 
 There they were, like two proud conquerors in 
 their triumphal cars, glorious in majesty and 
 might, hastening to wage war one with another. 
 It was hard to say which was the more gorgeous 
 in apparel, for each was clad in robes of living 
 light, and glowing yellow, and purple, and crim- 
 son : the one above rode on a dark, cloud, and the 
 one beneath had a dark cloud for his canopy. 
 
ON MENTAL REVELRY. 105 
 
 As the one, flashing with intolerable brightness, 
 descended, the other, with equal radiance, ad- 
 vanced to meet him, mocking his pomp and 
 splendour, and giving him hue for hue, light for 
 light, gloom for gloom, and glare for glare. And 
 now they were near each other, and the mighty 
 collision was at hand ; hut no hostile shock was 
 visible, no contending crash of thunder broke on 
 the ear. When they met on the confines of the 
 skies, each entering his dark cloud, the glowing 
 effulgency, the living light, the glittering hues of 
 yellow, purple, and crimson were silently with- 
 drawn, and the ethereal pageantry passed away, 
 leaving me a grateful reveller, bewildered with 
 the spectacle on which I had been privileged to 
 gaze. 
 
 Often does the sterile and the secluded affect 
 the heart as forcefully as the romantic and the 
 beautiful. It was on a dreary day that I stood 
 beside an ancient cairn of gray misshapen stones, 
 erected on a barren wild. Not even a blasted tree 
 gave variety to the scene, but all was lorn and 
 lonely. No sunny gleam lit up the sky, no grate- 
 ful verdures gladdened the earth, and no carolling 
 lark warbled in the air; but as I stood, for a 
 moment in love with desolation, a solitary seagull 
 came winnowing her way heavily above my head. 
 In such a place the heart soon longs for society, 
 
106 ON MENTAL REVELRY. 
 
 and feels that it is not formed to beat alone. In 
 such a scene we see the beauty of the words, " The 
 wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for 
 them ; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom 
 as the rose," Isa. xxxv. 1. 
 
 Once I was present at what might be called a 
 furious battle between the winds and the woods. 
 Few things are more exciting to many minds than 
 a high wind swaying to and fro the giant stems 
 of forest - trees, when the conflicting branches 
 strike one against another overhead, and the dry 
 leaves rustle beneath the feet. The stormy blast 
 came from the north, pouring its rage on the skirt 
 of the wood occupying the high bank, at no great 
 distance from the river. As I stood under an oak 
 that seemed, on account of its massy bole and 
 stunted growth, to promise me security, the scene 
 was wondrously impressive. The larger trees 
 writhed in their struggle with the tempest, those 
 of lighter stem bent as pliantly as the rush on the 
 brink of running waters, and a tall elm, at no 
 great distance from me, absolutely groaned again, 
 oppressed by the fury of the blast. When the 
 wind prevailed among the dry pines, the sound 
 was like the rattle of musketry ; and when it won 
 its way among the massy oaks, with their broad 
 branches and thick foliage, it resembled the roar 
 of distant artillery. The scene was wild and im- 
 
ON MENTAL REVELRY. 107 
 
 pressive in the extreme, and not unattended with 
 danger ; for while I stood, now gazing on the sky 
 that was fitfully visible, and now regarding with 
 intensity of interest the swaying trees, a sudden 
 blast, more turbulent than any which had pre- 
 ceded it, swept through the woods. A flight of 
 dry leaves whirled in the air, the oak under which 
 I stood received a stunning blow, and a towering 
 elm, torn up by its roots, fell with a fearful crash 
 on the trees that grew beneath it. The whole 
 wood trembled as if persecuted with the tempest 
 and made afraid by the storm. 
 
 Not long ago, I was standing near the brink of 
 a wild, precipitous crag, from whose sharp edge 
 I could have leaped a hundred fathoms to the 
 green slope below, that shelved down to the run- 
 ning river. The crag, with its deep rifts, was 
 garlanded with creeping plants and flowers. The 
 wind blew towards the crag, and the paper, thrown 
 by me from the summit, came flying back again 
 far above my head. The peaked mountains rose 
 up on the right, with their keen outline against 
 the sky, while those in the distance lost themselves 
 in the sunny heavens. The snow-white clouds, 
 with their shining edges, were piled up height 
 above height, and what with the plain below and 
 the glittering stream, the everlasting hills, and the 
 whole prospect extended before me, angels might 
 
108 ON MENTAL EEVELUY. 
 
 have looked down with admiration from the battle- 
 ments above, on His almighty workmanship who 
 created the " Heaven and the earth, and the sea, 
 and all that in them is." I revelled in the 
 exciting scene, and the language of my heart and 
 tongue was, 
 
 " To Him whose temple is all space; 
 
 Whose altar, earth, sea, skies ; 
 One chorus let all beings raise, 
 All Nature's incense rise!" 
 
ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 
 
 IT has been said that " a good horse is never 
 of a bad colour ;" but I am somewhat led to 
 doubt the truth of the adage. Whether it be the 
 .natural wilfulness of my disposition that leads me 
 to hesitate in admitting many things which others 
 regard as axioms, I cannot say, but it seems to 
 we that if we are frequently sceptical when we 
 ought to believe, we are sometimes credulous 
 when we ought to question. I not only believe 
 that a good horse may be of a bad colour, but 
 also that a good book may have a bad title. 
 
 When an author takes " a sprained ankle" 
 for his subject, his readers will not expect from 
 him much entertainment or originality. Such a 
 subject, however, like a horse of a bad colour, if 
 not attractive, may be rendered useful. Let us 
 see what we can make of it. 
 
 It may be, reader, that you have endured the 
 torture of a violent sprain of the ankle, with its 
 attendant inflammation, swelling, and discolor- 
 ation. You may be familiar with hot foment- 
 ations, lotions, cold water, embrocations, and 
 b 
 
110 ON A SPEAINED ANKLE. 
 
 bandages. You may have reclined on a sofa, or 
 sat, through the slowly revolving hours, with 
 your leg on a gout stool, now and then hobbling 
 into another room, leaning on a stick or a crutch ; 
 sometimes patiently seeking the advantage of rest, 
 and sometimes impatiently awaiting for the doc- 
 tor. If these things are known to you, it will 
 not be unpleasant to be reminded of a trouble 
 that you have passed through ; and if hitherto 
 you have not met with such a disaster as that of 
 a sprained ankle, it may not be amiss to make 
 you aware of your liability. 
 
 As telling the truth is in most, if not in all 
 cases, the best apology, when one is needed ; so 
 the simple relation of a fact is frequently more 
 interesting than a high- wrought description. My 
 tale will be told in a few words, though my com- 
 ments thereupon may be a little more lengthy. 
 
 I was returning home late (sadly too late for 
 one of my years, for it was eleven o'clock at 
 night, but I had been unexpectedly detained), 
 when suddenly I set my foot on a broken flag- 
 stone. Something gave a snap, but at the moment 
 so intense was my agony, that I knew not whether 
 it was my leg, or a piece of wood on the flag- 
 stone. A deathly coldness came over me, and I 
 thought that my senses were about to leave me ; 
 so, steadying myself against a closed shop win- 
 
ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. Ill 
 
 dow, I awaited the crisis. A cold perspiration 
 having somewhat relieved me, and being near my 
 abode, I hopped to some palisades by the road 
 side, and with the assistance they afforded me, 
 contrived to reach my own habitation. 
 
 What a blessing is it to be calm and collected 
 in bodily affliction! This has hitherto almost 
 always been the case with me, and it was so on 
 the occasion to which I have alluded. I suc- 
 ceeded, with some assistance, in getting off my 
 boot, and perceiving how much my foot and 
 ankle were bruised, swollen, and inflamed, imme 
 diately applied to a surgeon ; happily no bones 
 were broken. 
 
 Do not suppose it to be my intention to, call 
 forth your condolence by dwelling on the subject 
 of my ailment. So far from it, I purpose rather 
 to beat up for your congratulation, for I bear paiu 
 patiently, and my spirit has not been clouded for 
 a moment. At the time that I am penning down 
 these remarks, a long period has passed, during 
 which I have almost been anchored to my chair 
 and leg-rest, with very trifling amendment. Let 
 me now see if there is not a sunny side even to a 
 sprained ankle. 
 
 It is related of a naval captain that, in spite of 
 the severe shock his constitution had received by 
 a long residence in the West Indies, he still 
 
112 ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 
 
 retained unabated his natural cheerfulness. " I 
 never hear you complain," said a friend to him. 
 " And I trust you never will," was his reply, 
 " for as my ill health is a subject that would 
 give my friends pain, I reserve it for those to 
 whom it may perhaps afford pleasure, and speak 
 of it only to my doctors." It will be well if both 
 the reader and Old Humphrey follow " in the 
 wake" of the sea captain. 
 
 When I found that no bones were broken, an 
 emotion of thankfulness took possession of my 
 mind that no heavier calamity had befallen me. 
 Why, somewhere about the same time that my 
 accident occurred, an officer fell into a hole, four- 
 teen or sixteen feet deep, and broke his leg in 
 two places. For three weary hours did the ago- 
 nizing sufferer persevere in the almost forlorn 
 hope of extricating himself from his wretched 
 situation, his cries having brought no one to his 
 assistance. Think of a man climbing up out of a 
 hole four or five yards deep, and dragging after 
 him his poor shattered limb ! This achievement 
 he performed, but whether he has survived his 
 fearful accident, I do not know. I felt that I had 
 been dealt with mercifully, and was grateful for 
 my escape. 
 
 There is this advantage in being deprived for a 
 season of our bodily faculties, that they immedi- 
 
ON A 8PKAINED ANKLE. 113 
 
 ately rise in our estimation, so that, if truly wise, 
 we wonder we have not been more thankful to 
 our heavenly Father for them ; we call to mind 
 how long we have been favoured with them, and 
 we are moved to say with Job, " Shall we receive 
 good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive 
 evil ? " Surely this is an advantage that no 
 Christian man would willingly overlook. 
 
 Another good thing that arises out of affliction 
 is an increased sympathy for all in the like cir- 
 cumstances. Not a lame man can pass within 
 my range of sight, while I sit by the window, but 
 I follow him with my eyes and my heart. Peace 
 go with thee, my crippled brother ! What if we 
 do for a little season go limping through the 
 world, it is only what better men have done 
 before us. If we are halting with our bodies, let 
 us run the heavenly race the more swiftly with 
 our souls. I have written a letter to the sur- 
 veyor of the highway, that the broken flag-stone 
 may be repaired, and that my neighbours, and, 
 indeed, strangers too, may be free, so far as the 
 faulty pavement is concerned, from the mishap 
 that has befallen me. 
 
 It is wonderful how much confinement within 
 
 doors quickens us in obtaining pleasure from 
 
 trifles. As the captive counts the iron nails on 
 
 the door of his cell, and seeks >yith his eye the 
 
 L 2 
 
114 ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 
 
 dim light that streams through his prison bars, 
 so he who is confined to his chair or his 
 chamber, looks around him for relief and recre- 
 ation. I cannot tell you the enjoyment I have 
 felt in watching the habits of a linnet and three 
 canary birds which are flying around me, with 
 the doors of their cages wide open ; in observing 
 the buds that are bursting forth from day to day 
 from a geranium-tree now before me ; in ranging 
 with my eye over the different beds of my little 
 garden, and in looking up to the ever-changing 
 white clouds in the blue sky. After all, our en- 
 joyments depend more on what we are, than on 
 what we see ; come joy or come sorrow, a grateful 
 heart will get good out of everything. 
 
 The invitations and remarks of Christian friends 
 are far from being unwelcome, telling me as they 
 do, that I am not forgotten. " Come to me," 
 says one, " and we will try to make you forget 
 your foot as effectually as if you never had one." 
 " Name any day you like best," says another, " I 
 have a nice sofa for you to rest on." " We 
 will watch over you," says a third, " as tenderly 
 as if you were a simple child instead of a wise old 
 man." " I need not say," adds a fourth, " how 
 grieved I am to hear of your sad accident, and 
 how much I wish that I could be of some assist- 
 ance to you." A fifth expresses his hope that I 
 
ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 115 
 
 shall find myself strong enough to come to him, 
 " Quick, march !" and a sixth will not be put off 
 by so " lame a reason " as my infirmity, but pro- 
 poses to send for me, and set me down again at my 
 own door. " The short hobble in and out of the 
 house can hardly do any harm, and you shall 
 have aji easy chair and a footstool by the fire." 
 Say what you will, but I envy not the man whose 
 heart glows not at the kind attentions of his bro- 
 ther pilgrims. To take away the thorns and 
 briers, and to scatter flowers in each other's path- 
 ways is an occupation well befitting those who 
 have to pass through tribulation and sorrow. 
 
 If, on the one hand, the green leaves and the 
 bright sunbeams call up within me grateful recol- 
 lections of the past, on the other they excite 
 hopeful anticipations of the future. Yes ! yes ! I 
 shall soon again walk abroad. By the goodness 
 of God I shall yet " leap over a wall." 
 
 " One day," says an eastern writer, " I inquired 
 of a philosopher by what means he had gained so 
 much wisdom ? He replied, ' By imitating the 
 blind ; for a blind man never moves a single step 
 till he has sounded with his stick the ground on 
 which he is to trust himself.' " Something like 
 the same remark may be made on a lame man as 
 on a blind man. Trust me, in my present situ- 
 ation, for setting down my poor foot on aught that 
 
116 ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 
 
 is unsafe or unsound ! When I leave my chair, I 
 walk as if the ground were strewn with eggs, and 
 I was afraid of breaking them. " See then that 
 ye walk circumspectly," is a text which has now 
 in my eyes a force which it did not possess 
 before. 
 
 Suitable and solemn reflections, and a dinging 
 to God's holy word, are among the advantages 
 that frequently attend affliction ; and these of 
 themselves are more than enough to repay us for 
 our temporary deprivations. When afflictions 
 make us neither wiser nor better, it is a very bad 
 sign : " Blessed is the man whom thou chasten- 
 est, O Lord, and teachest him out of thy law," 
 Psa. xciv. 12. " W r hen I sit in darkness, the 
 Lord shall be light unto me," Micah vii. 8. 
 
 I cannot tell how it is that sceptics get through 
 their troubles. Oh, it is a blessed thing in afflic- 
 tion simply to believe the written word, and con- 
 fidingly to turn to "the Lord our righteousness," 
 who is " able also to save them to the uttermost 
 that come unto God by him, seeing he ever 
 liveth to make intercession for them," Heb. vii. 25. 
 Whatever be our trouble, here are the elements of 
 comfort, peace, and joy. It is eloquently said of 
 Dr. Chalmers, by a celebrated divine, that " He 
 followed the sceptic into all his retreats, and 
 overtook and overwhelmed him in each succession. 
 
ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 117 
 
 At one time he would track his course along sub- 
 terranean mines, amid fossil remains and frag- 
 ments of aboriginal chaos, and confound him 
 there with the undeniable footprints of Deity. 
 At another he would rise on untiring wing, and 
 pursue him from star to star, from system to sys- 
 tem, and confute him there, and bring back to 
 this earth, as the evidence of his victory, a more 
 glorious apocalypse of the power, resources, and 
 glory of God." Well may we all pray to be pre- 
 served from scepticism. % 
 
 My friends proffer me all manner of prescrip- 
 tions with the confidence of physicians. Some 
 dwell on the advantages of " rest," and the vir- 
 tues of crab verjuice ; others have an unshaken 
 faith in the healing power of cold water and an 
 elastic stocking, and a sovereign balm in the 
 shape of a bottle of embrocation has been for- 
 warded to me by the post. 
 
 In looking back on the past I find that, among 
 other advantages attending my accident, I may 
 lay claim to a sense of deliverance from greater 
 affliction ; a higher estimate of my mercies ; 
 sympathy for others' infirmities, and a desire to 
 protect them from danger ; an increase of plea- 
 sure from trifling sources ; much kindness on the 
 part of my friends ; grateful recollections of the 
 past ; hopeful anticipations of the future ; suitable 
 
118 ON A SPRAINED ANKLE. 
 
 and solemn reflections, and a clinging to God's 
 holy word. I think, then, my reader, if appealed 
 to, will agree with me, that, though pain and con- 
 finement are not of themselves agreeable, there is 
 a sunny side even to a sprained ankle. 
 
OLD HUMPHREY ON THE 
 CLEARING OUT OF HIS STUDY. 
 
 HAVING achieved a victory of no common 
 kind, I feel quite disposed, while buoyant with 
 success, to record the event, being satisfied that 
 unless I do it now, it will never be done at all. 
 As I have neither sacked a city, nor scabbarded 
 my sword in a brother's bosom, I cannot reason- 
 ably expect either a pension while alive, or a 
 monument in Westminster Abbey when dead. 
 All I request is to be permitted to describe my 
 achievement. I have cleared out my study ; and 
 thus, as asserted above, achieved a victory of no 
 common kind. 
 
 That the clearing out of my study may be the 
 better understood, it may be well for me to 
 explain that I have an upper study, smaller than 
 the one below, furnished with a green-baized table 
 and drawers, a library, and shelves in all direc- 
 tions, for storing away papers and manuscripts. 
 Here there are folios, quartos, octavos, and 
 duodecimos; odd volumes, in different languages; 
 grammars and dictionaries ; and here, too, before 
 
120 OLD HUMPHREY ON THE 
 
 they were arranged, were in " most excellent con- 
 fusion" pamphlets of all kinds, sizes, and sub- 
 jects, reports of institutions, guide-books, cata- 
 logues, newspaper cuttings, maps, manuscripts, 
 and paper lumber of almost every description. 
 The accumulation of years and a want of order 
 had made the place a literary labyrinth, in which 
 I was continually losing myself as well as my 
 papers. Again and again had I resolved on 
 clearing out the Augean stable, and again and 
 again had I put off the undertaking. At last, 
 encouraged by the promised assistance of a young 
 friend who was visiting me, I entered on my 
 important enterprise. 
 
 Like a prudent general before an engagement, 
 I took a survey of my position. My library, it 
 is true, was neither a Bodleian, a Cottonian, nor 
 a Harleian library in extent and costliness ; but, 
 on the contrary, limited in its scale, and contain- 
 ing few volumes of value; yet, in the state in 
 which it was, I could hardly hope to rout out the 
 stray books from their several hiding places all 
 over the house, to collect them together, and 
 arrange them properly, without much trouble. 
 It was, however, with the pamphlets, periodicals, 
 manuscripts, and loose papers, that my difficulty 
 lay. When I look now on my orderly arranged 
 shelves and labelled bundles of manuscripts, I 
 
CLEARING OUT OF HIS STUDY. 121 
 
 can smile at the picturesque figures of my patient 
 young friend and myself, as, with begrimed hands 
 and careworn faces, we toiled hour after hour, and 
 day after day, with the forlorn hope of producing 
 order out of the chaos around us. If, reader, you 
 have a study stored with books and manuscripts, 
 and wish to enjoy in it much comfort, and avoid 
 much trouble, keep it in order. 
 
 My collection of pamphlets and printed papers 
 was of the most heterogeneous description ima- 
 ginable ; law, physic, and divinity were therein 
 strangely mingled. For many years I have 
 hoarded up not only the catalogues of the British 
 Museum, National Gallery, Exhibition of the 
 Royal Academy, Polytechnic Institution, and 
 most other collections of curiosities, paintings, 
 and drawings, but also the printed books and 
 papers descriptive of the panoramas, dioramas, 
 and cosmoramas of the metropolis, and of the 
 more fugitive exhibitions that, from time to time, 
 attract the attention of the public; so that my 
 motley collection included pamphlets and papers 
 of all kinds. Here lay notices of the " Chinese 
 junk," the " Smithfield cat tie -show," and 
 " Madame Tussaud's wax-work ; " there descrip- 
 tions of the " speaking automaton," the " enor- 
 mous head," and the " singing mouse ; " and 
 yonder, papers giving publicity to the " indus- 
 
 M 
 
122 OLD HUMPHREY ON THE 
 
 trious fleas." "Moses and Son's Saxony dress 
 coats and tweed trousers," and " Morton's Old 
 English Baron and Excise Dining Rooms," the 
 " only house in England where they have roasted 
 three whole oxen of l,2001bs. to 1,400 Ibs. weight 
 each in a kitchen ! " There seemed to be hardly 
 any end to the number. To say the least of it, my 
 pamphlets, piles of periodicals, magazines, guide- 
 books, catalogues, reports, maps, newspaper cut- 
 tings, and trumpery-bag, mingled together as they 
 were, and many of them adorned with the venerable 
 and undisturbed dust and cobwebs of passing 
 years, presented a somewhat formidable appear- 
 ance. 
 
 But if my pamphlets and loose printed papers 
 were of so motley a kind, my manuscripts were 
 much more so ; their extent and variety surprised 
 me : the crude efforts of childhood were mixed 
 up with the productions of maturity and age. 
 There were many orderly piles of manuscripts, 
 but many were disorderly heaps of loose papers, 
 some important, and others of no moment. Of 
 these papers there were not hundreds only, but 
 thousands, requiring, at the least, an individual 
 glance, and some of them a much more prolonged 
 attention. To save or to destroy was the ques- 
 tion a question now and then involving, of 
 necessity, no little feeling and anxiety. What an 
 
CLEARING OUT OF HIS STUDY, 123 
 
 aged friend of mine, who writes a diary, notes 
 down all his visits and his visitors, and keeps his 
 books, letters, manuscripts, and papers in such 
 order that he could at any time find his way to 
 most of them blindfold what he would have said 
 at the sight of my disorderly study I know not : 
 but to my recital. 
 
 My young friend and I set to work, varying our 
 plan at least a dozen times as we proceeded. To 
 collect and arrange the books of the library was 
 the first labour, and next to tie up and label the 
 periodicals ; these latter were very numerous, very 
 widely scattered, and very dusty. And now came 
 the "tug of war" the examination of the piles 
 of papers and the heaps of literary lumber which 
 had so long been accumulating in their stronghold 
 of seclusion and confusion. 
 
 Some attempts were made to class our materials ; 
 but the multifarious medley set all classification 
 at defiance, and compelled us to adopt very general 
 heads, under which we proceeded to arrange, as 
 well as we could, the dusty masses around us. 
 A large clothes-basket was at hand to receive such 
 papers as were to be destroyed, and into this 
 receptacle did we shower our favours with liberal 
 hands. Four times was this large basket emptied 
 of its heterogeneous contents. 
 
 From the upper shelves were dislodged many a 
 
124 OLD HUMPHREY ON THE 
 
 poor, half-dead bluebottle fly, who had found a 
 hermitage between the paper parcels. At one 
 time we had to deal with packets which ought 
 long since to have been destroyed ; and at another 
 with rolls of writings that we wished not to keep, 
 and yet felt reluctant to injure. Then turned up 
 bundles of dingy, dusty papers, that had long 
 formed an unmolested retreat for the spiders : 
 these papers were the original manuscripts of 
 many of the pieces which appeared in the earlier 
 days of " The Visitor," when as yet Old Hum- 
 phrey was but little known to his readers. Here 
 might be read, through the partial obscurity of 
 dust and cobwebs that enveloped them, the titles 
 " On the price of things," " On Fits," " An Ex- 
 cellent Idea," "The Blackberries," and "The 
 Toppers : " this latter piece has had its full share 
 of popularity. Then came " Plain and Pithy 
 Remarks," "Begging, Borrowing, and Stealing," 
 "On the Day's Sorrow," and "On Capital; or, 
 Plenty more in the Cellar," followed by " On 
 Housewifery," that has made no small stir among 
 housewives ; " Sketch in a Retired Lane," " Rub- 
 bing Off Old Scores," "On a Plum Pudding," 
 "The Trumpery Bag," "Who is Old Hum- 
 phrey?" and some scores of others. On a part 
 of these mould and damp had done their work 
 effectually, so that the faded writing became 
 
CLEAKING OUT OF HTS STUDY. 125 
 
 a monitor to the writer, bidding him " pre- 
 pare ! " 
 
 Among other papers, many a written list of 
 undertakings not yet begun, plans only in part 
 perfected, and resolutions which have never been 
 carried into effect, arrested my attention, and 
 called forth a sigh sincere. The clearing out of 
 a study is not unaccompanied with pain. 
 
 Now and then, in the course of our proceed- 
 ings, I came upon misplaced letters that I could 
 not help opening, and which, when I did open 
 them, wrung my heart-strings. There are few of 
 us who have lived long in this world of joy and 
 sorrow, who are not, in one way or other, linked 
 to remembrances of an exciting kind. Some 
 whom we have known, and honoured, and loved, 
 are in foreign lands, and others are above the 
 stars ; and we are not always equal to an abrupt 
 and unexpected recognition of their handwriting 
 addressing us. In poring over my old papers 
 many a letter was crushed up in my hand with 
 sudden emotion. 
 
 Many were the rough copies of communications 
 sent to remarkable or literary characters ; and one 
 scrawl on a scrap of paper reminded me that I 
 once, for a friend, took charge of an epistle 
 addressed to king George iv., and it seems, even 
 now, but as yesterday, that I was waiting in the 
 M 2 
 
126 OLf) HUMPHREY ON THE 
 
 mansion of the lord-chancellor Eldon, near Hyde 
 Park, to put into his hand, on his return from 
 the upper house, the letter for his royal master. 
 
 Sometimes, in the very middle of papers, I 
 found a mislaid article, that for hours I had 
 searched for in vain. Again I say, reader, if you 
 have a study stored with books and manuscripts, 
 and wish to enjoy in it much comfort and avoid 
 much trouble, keep it in order. 
 
 For nearly a week, day after day, we continued 
 our toil, and very pleasant it was when we began 
 to see the profitable result of our labours. Shelf 
 after shelf assumed an air of order and neatness ; 
 the \*ry study itself appeared lighter and more 
 roomy, and a burden seemed to be removed from 
 my heart. 
 
 Among other consequences attendant on the 
 clearing out of my study, was the circumstance of 
 my being tempted to sit up several nights to a 
 very untimely hour. Whether my young friend 
 who was assisting me, and who felt anxious for 
 my early retirement, had found among my loose 
 papers the original manuscript of my remarks on 
 going to bed early, I cannot say, but certain it is 
 that I found placed on my study- table the follow- 
 ing lines neatly copied out for my own edifica- 
 tion : " Go to bed early. To go to bed early is 
 the easiest way, the best way, and almost the only 
 
CLEANING OUT OF HIS STUDY. 127 
 
 way to thrive. You may rise early, strive hard, 
 and do everything else in the world that ought to 
 be done ; but unless you go to bed early, depend 
 upon it it will be all in vain. In the course of my 
 life I have sat up many a night, and my headache 
 and my heart-ache on the following days failed not 
 to tell me that I had done wrong. It is as clear 
 that night was made for sleep as it is that daylight 
 was given to be spent in employment. Let owls, 
 and bats, and wild beasts be abroad at night ; but 
 if we are blessed with good, warm, comfortable 
 beds, let us retire to them early. If mankind 
 were divided into two parts, good and bad, depend 
 upon it the worst part would consist of those who 
 sit up late ; and I will answer for it that nineteen 
 out of every twenty who have been hung on 
 Tyburn tree did not go to bed early." And at 
 the bottom of this cauterizing quotation were 
 added the words, " Written by Old Humphrey's 
 very own pen." 
 
 This was a reproof tolerably sharp, and admi- 
 nistered with great tact ; for il placed me in much 
 the same predicament as that of the wounded 
 eagle, who, on regarding the arrow which had 
 wounded her, found it feathered with a plume 
 from her own pinions. You may be sure that 
 I retired to bed that night early. 
 
 Thanks to the patience and perseverance of 
 
128 CLEARING OUT THE STUDY. 
 
 m j young friend, my study was thoroughly cleared 
 out ; the dust and the lumber, the confusion and 
 the cobwebs are gone. Oh that I could also 
 clear away all the idle, the foolish, and the sinful 
 cobwebs of an old man's heart, that with a more 
 orderly, lightsome, and grateful spirit, I might 
 praise the Father of mercies for the abundant gifts 
 of which I am the unworthy partaker. To Him 
 be praise, might, majesty, and dominion, now, 
 henceforth, and for ever. For the third and last 
 time, let me whisper to every one, appeal to the 
 reader, and cry aloud to Old Humphrey, if you 
 have a study well stored with books and manu- 
 scripts, and wish to enjoy it in much comfort, and 
 save yourself much trouble, keep it in order! 
 Keep it in order ! 
 
OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS 
 WAY. 
 
 THOUGH a hasty judgment is no mark of a 
 man's discretion, yet may we arrive at some con- 
 clusions with very little reflection. Hardly do I 
 think that one of my readers will tax me with 
 rashness in hazarding the opinion that he must 
 have moved about but little in this wide world, 
 who has never been out of his way. Some people, 
 however, are shy in admitting their errors ; let 
 me, then, begin by acknowledging a few of my 
 own. 
 
 Whether it be from absence of mind, from an 
 inclination to observe the persons and things 
 around me, or from the habit I have of pursuing 
 some train of thought as I walk abroad, certain it 
 is though you may trust me ir\ finding the place 
 of my destination at last I do very frequently 
 get out of my way. 
 
 In the days of my boyhood, I once loitered with 
 a companion till night overtook us, when we had 
 yet many miles to travel. In crossing a wild 
 heath famous for highway robberies (the bones 
 
130 OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 
 
 of a murderer were at the time hanging in irons 
 from a gibbet on a neighbouring hill) we became 
 bewildered among the high furze-bushes, and lost 
 our way. Long did we wander, and much longer 
 should we have roamed about in that desolate 
 place, had it not been that two mounted travellers, 
 whom our fears transformed into highwaymen, 
 fortunately drew near, and took us up behind 
 them, conveying us in safety to a neighbouring 
 town. Many are the years that have flown since 
 this occurrence but not one in which I have not 
 gone out of my way. 
 
 It was when visiting a hole of water tradi- 
 tionally unfathomable among the mountains of 
 Wales, that I once was weak and wilful enough to 
 imagine I could find my way better alone than 
 with the assistance of a guide. We had to de- 
 scend high rocks, that were nearly perpendicular, 
 by taking hold of shrubs and the branches of the 
 stunted trees which grew there, and to preep 
 along narrow ledges that shelved down towards 
 the fearful chasim Again and again was I warned 
 of the danger of approaching too near the horrible 
 hole ; but when was youth known to be heedful ! 
 All at once, as I trod on a ledge of rock covered 
 with green slime, my feet slipped from under me, 
 and I went sliding on towards the hole, into 
 which I must have plunged had I not, at its very 
 
OLD HUMPHEEY OUT OF HIS WAY. 131 
 
 edge, caught hold of a projecting angle of the 
 rock. Though I in part escaped a cold bath, yet 
 had I much more of the water than was pleasant 
 to me. What a ridiculous figure I must have cut, 
 holding by the rock, partly in and partly out of 
 the black water of the unfathomable hole ! The 
 guide cried out aloud, but my ducking and my 
 danger cried out to me still louder. I felt that I 
 was indeed out of my way, and after crawling to 
 a place of safety, conducted myself with much 
 greater circumspection. 
 
 It is not a month since that, being engaged to 
 dine with a friend at a few miles' distance from 
 my own dwelling, I intentionally prolonged my 
 walk for the benefit of the fine fresh air. After 
 this, making the best of my way, I soon found 
 myself near the house of my friend. A mo- 
 mentary pause on the open green, and a peep at 
 the outside of the church, were indispensable ; I 
 then entered the gate, walked along the gravel 
 walk, rapped and rang at the door, and entered 
 the habitation. On approaching the house, I saw 
 through the window of the dining-room a table 
 spread with a profusion of tapers, and ornaments 
 of a costly kind, by way of preparation. " Oh," 
 thought I, "we are going to have a princely 
 entertainment." The man-servant received me 
 pleasantly at the door, and a maid -servant, after 
 
132 OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAT. 
 
 taking my top coat, my hat, and my stick, with 
 a smile of good humour, preceded me to announce 
 my name. Already was the door of an adjoining 
 room opened for this purpose, when, observing 
 some things which appeared unusual, and having 
 my misgivings that all was not right, I drew back 
 to ascertain whether I had not taken another 
 house for the habitation of my friend. This was 
 literally the case, and Old Humphrey was, once 
 more, out of his way. You may be sure that I 
 was not very dilatory in creeping again into my 
 coat, putting on my hat, and effecting a retreat. 
 Why, had I not drawn back from the opened 
 door as I did, in another moment I should have 
 been in the very middle of the assembled com- 
 pany every one openly or secretly laughing at 
 me for my extraordinary mistake. Doubtless I 
 should get out of such a difficulty as this with a 
 better grace now than I could in my younger 
 days, yet still the position would have been by no 
 means desirable. Often do I laugh at others, in 
 my quiet way, therefore it is nothing but fair 
 that I should, now and then, be laughed at in 
 return ; but no man would willingly be found in 
 such a dilemma as that of appearing as I was 
 about to do, in the instance referred to, an unin- 
 vited guest in the house of a stranger. 
 
 Some years ago, when travelling on horseback, 
 
OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 133 
 
 I ventured along a lane that promised well to save 
 me a mile or two of my journey ; but as I went on 
 it grew narrower and rougher, until the cart ruts 
 and the stiff clay were so deep that I really was 
 afraid of breaking my horse's legs. Truly might 
 it have been said that I was out of my way. With 
 much toil, patience, and perseverance I reached 
 the end of the lane, or rather clay-pit, through 
 which I and my horse had forced a passage, and 
 there found a printed board announcing the road 
 to be "impassable." They had hoisted a board 
 at one end of the lane and not at the other, so 
 that I had not the benefit of knowing that the 
 road was "impassable" till I had nearly passed 
 through it. 
 
 But though I have been, times without number, 
 out of my way, never was I so terribly beset with 
 difficulties on account of my wandering astray as 
 on the occasion when touring on foot amid the 
 Highlands of Scotland. The characteristics of 
 the Highlands are vastness, sterility, loneliness, 
 and sublimity. I had nearly twenty miles of bog 
 to traverse in the neighbourhood of Loch Ran- 
 noch, over some of the roughest and wildest 
 ground in Scotland, and was benighted. I had a 
 guide for a few miles to lead me into the bog ; 
 but, alas ! I had no guide to lead me out of it. 
 While it was light I could see Ben Doran, Ben 
 
 N 
 
134 OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 
 
 Cruachen, and Buchal Etive a dozen miles ahead 
 of me ; but when night came on, I could not have 
 seen them had they only been from me a few hun- 
 dred yards. Twenty miles of broken, swampy 
 ground, through which one is obliged to go in a 
 serpentine or zig-zag direction, and very often to 
 come back again to the same spot, is more than 
 equal to forty miles on a turnpike road. I had to 
 cross boggy ground, leaping like a kangaroo from 
 one hummock of moss to another, where, with my 
 stick, I could not reach the bottom of the black 
 peaty mud, to cross rifts of earth of a great and 
 alarming depth, balancing myself with nice pre- 
 cision while walking along the barkless and 
 bleached trunks of trees which lay at the bottom 
 of them the vegetable skeletons of bygone years 
 and to descend into a series of hollows, floun- 
 dering as well as I could through the shallow parts 
 of the pools they contained. When a man takes 
 a hundred leaps in the twilight, as I did, not 
 knowing in any one of them but that he may sink 
 in the mire to his knees or his neck, and escapes 
 with his life, he must either be very insensible or 
 very grateful. From eight in the morning till ten 
 at night did I wander in that swampy wilderness, 
 and for many hours in a fearful twilight. Three 
 times, dispirited and broken down, I chose a 
 resting-place in the bog for the night, and three 
 
OLD HUMPHKEY OUT OF HIS WAY. 135 
 
 times again made the attempt to extricate myself 
 from the marshy labyrinth; and when at last, 
 when hope was well nigh gone, I suddenly and 
 unexpectedly set my foot on the solid earth even 
 the turnpike-road between Inveraran and King's 
 House, I fell instantly on my knees in a transport 
 of delight and thankfulness. On the morrow, I 
 surveyed from an eminence a part of the dangers 
 through which I had so mercifully been brought ; 
 and a few days after, I learned that two tourists 
 from London had been found dead only a few 
 miles from the spot. If I never was out of my 
 way before, I was certainly out of my way in the 
 bog of Loch Lydoch. Loch Rannoch, Loch 
 Lydoch, King's House, Buchal Etive, and gloomy 
 Glencoe, ye are written in the book of my memory 
 ye are graven on the tablet of my heart for 
 ever ! 
 
 But enough of my own adventures ; if they 
 happen to call up in the remembrance of others 
 occurrences of a similar kind, and remind them of 
 mercies that they have in part forgotten, it will be 
 well ; but there is a much more important view of 
 this subject than that which has been hitherto 
 taken. If wandering from the turnpike-road gives 
 us the heart-ache, how is it, reader, when we 
 wander from the paths of peace the ways of 
 uprightness, of holiness, and of heaven ? 
 
136 OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 
 
 Oh what wanderings there have been in the 
 world from the time when God formed man of the 
 clay, and breathed into him the breath of life. 
 When Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit ; 
 when Cain laid murderous hands on his brother 
 Abel ; and when the sons of Jacob sold Joseph to 
 the Ishmaelites ; they were all out of their way ; 
 and the same may be said of Pharaoh, when, hot 
 with anger, and thirsting for revenge, he, and his 
 chariot, and his horsemen were overwhelmed in 
 the waters of the Red Sea. 
 
 Elijah had got sadly out of his way when he 
 fled for his life, through fear of Jezebel, and hid 
 himself in a cave ; and " What doest thou here, 
 Elijah?" jpust have sounded reproachfully in his 
 ears. When out of his way, he was timid as a 
 hind ; but when in his way, he was bold as a 
 lion, fearing neither Jezebel, nor Ahab, nor the 
 prophets of Baal. " And Elijah said unto them, 
 Take the prophets of Baal ; let not one of them 
 escape. And they took them, and Elijah brought 
 them down to the brook Kishon, and slew them 
 there," I Kings xviii. 40, 
 
 Little thought Sampson, when he went down to 
 the valley of Sorek, how much ne was going out 
 of his way ; but he was very sensible of it when 
 his eyes were put out, and when, manacled with 
 fetters of bra?s, he was made to grind in the 
 
OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 137 
 
 prison-house. David and Solomon must needs 
 have been wandering in crooked ways when the 
 one said, " Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, 
 and done this evil in thy sight ;" and the other, 
 " Then I looked on all the works that my hands 
 had wrought, and on the labour that I had 
 laboured to do, and, behold, all was vanity and 
 vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under 
 the sun." 
 
 The poor prodigal wandered widely in his riot- 
 ous living ; but he seems never to have given it a 
 thought how much he was out of his way till 
 misery opened his eyes. So long as his paths 
 were strewn with flowers, he went on pleasantly ; 
 but when he came to the thorns and briers, he 
 suddenly made a pause. 
 
 We must not, however, be content to ring the 
 changes on Adam and Eve, Pharaoh and Elijah, 
 Samson and David, Solomon and the poor pro- 
 digal, but come nearer home, and apply the sub- 
 ject to ourselves. How is it with you? Have 
 you no wilful wanderings ? Which way are your 
 faces turned, and your hearts directed ? 
 
 It is said, in the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, 
 "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have 
 turned every one to his own way ; and the Lord 
 hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." Here 
 we have, in few words, the disease and the cure, 
 N 2 
 
138 OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS WAY. 
 
 the charge and the justification, brought together 
 to a point. We see here, that a man may be in 
 his own way, and yet be out of God's way ; or, in 
 the language of Scripture, " There is a way that 
 seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are 
 the ways of death." This being the case, let us 
 seek more diligently the " good way," and more 
 circumspectly " walk therein." 
 
 It might not exactly suit you to make me your 
 father confessor, telling me of all your wander- 
 ings ; nfcr, indeed, if it did, would it be wise in 
 me to undertake to listen thereto, seeing that my 
 own wanderings are quite enough to occupy my 
 solicitous attention. If, however, we mutually 
 entertain a right estimate of our infirmities and 
 sins, and if we are too heavily laden to lend a 
 helping hand to one another, let us go together, 
 at once, in a humble spirit, to tae cross that 
 haply, as in the case of the IHigrim of old, the 
 burdens may fall from our backs, so that, with 
 merry and grateful hearts, we may give " three 
 leaps for joy," and go on in the right way, 
 " singing." 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT 
 ARMOUR. 
 
 WHILE peaceably pursuing our several occu- 
 pations, we can but faintly portray the fatal feuds 
 
 and bloody conflicts which prevailed when men, 
 
 * 
 
 "All arm'd in rugged steel unfiled," 
 
 encountered each other, and struggled in the 
 death grapple of mortal strife ; but when by 
 accident or design we come in contact with helm 
 and hauberk, sword and glittering spear, we 
 realize the fierce contentions of our armed fore- 
 fathers ; we long to know more of their deadly 
 encounters, and to inspect more narrowly their 
 armour and their arms. 
 
 Such were the reflections that were excited in 
 my mind by a visit to Goodrich Court, where the 
 curious in weapons of offence and defence may 
 gaze even to satiety on the arms and varied suits 
 of armour, that in rich and splendid profusion 
 adorn the tournament chamber and grand ar- 
 moury of the castle. 
 
 Goodrich Court is a modern castle, built of 
 
140 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT AEMOUK. 
 
 stone, and stands on a commanding eminence on 
 the bank of the river Wye, in Herefordshire, at a 
 little distance from the ruin of the old castle of 
 Goodrich, and the collection of arms and armour 
 it contains is thought by many to be the most 
 instructive in Europe. Other collections may be 
 more extensive, but not so varied, and the cir- 
 cumstance of the correct date of the different 
 suits of armour being in most cases ascertained, 
 gives the whole an interest which can hardly be 
 excited by a collection where all is involved in 
 doubt and uncertainty. 
 
 Strange emotions arise when gazing on suits of 
 armour which have actually been used in the 
 tournament and the field ; their uncouth shape, 
 their ponderous weight, yea, the very injuries 
 they have received, are full of interest ; we go 
 back again to earlier times, and are reminded of 
 such scenes as the following : 
 
 " Ten of them were sheath'd in steel, 
 With belted brand, and spur on heel, 
 They never quit their harness bright, 
 Neither by day, nor yet by night ; 
 
 They lie down to rest 
 
 In corslet laced, 
 Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard ; 
 
 They carved at the meal 
 
 With gloves of steel, 
 And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.' 
 
 In the collection at Goodrich Court, ancient 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT AKMOUK. 141 
 
 chain armour of the time of Edward in. may be 
 seen, and ancient plate armour of the reign of 
 Henry vi. Some few pieces of armour still more 
 ancient are there* but, on account of their un- 
 connected state, it would be difficult to determine 
 their particular uses. Ancient European armour 
 before the thirteenth century was formed by 
 stitching steel rings on cloth, but as the cloth 
 decayed the rings of course fell asunder. 
 
 The first collection of armour for show was 
 made by the emperor Charles v. ; it was placed 
 in the castle of Ambras, in the Tyrol, and 
 excited much attention, but has since been re- 
 moved on account of the plunder of the imperia 
 collection at Vienna by the French troops. Before 
 this collection was made, the weapons of war fo 
 actual service were stored up in arsenals, and 
 suits of armour worn by those whose rank and 
 property enabled them to possess them were 
 kept in closets thence called armoires. 
 
 In ancient times, when an enemy had been 
 overcome, it was customary to exhibit the spoils 
 which had been taken, but suits of body armour 
 were usually altered to fit the possessor of them, 
 in order to save the great expense incurred by 
 the manufacture of armour, as well as to meet 
 the changes of fashion that continually took 
 place. A suit of armour sometimes went through 
 
142 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 
 
 as many changes as it had proprietors, for so 
 cumbrous an appendage required that it should 
 be nicely fitted to the person of the wearer ; 
 otherwise it could not be worn without great 
 inconvenience, to say nothing of the restraint it 
 occasioned. If we call to rnind our own discom- 
 fort in wearing cloth clothes that do not fit us, 
 we may form some conception of the endurance 
 necessary to enable any one to walk, to ride, and to 
 fight in a complete suit of inflexible iron or steel, 
 ill adapted to his figure or movements. 
 
 Suits of armour were sufficiently costly to be 
 bequeathed by will, with great care, and different 
 suits were often left to different branches of the 
 family ; thus Guy de Beauchamp, earl of War- 
 wick, who died at Warwick Castle in 1316, 
 bequeathed his best coat of mail, helmet, and suit 
 of harness, with all that belonged to it, to 
 his son Thomas. His second suit, helmet, and 
 harness, he left to his son John, and willed 
 that all the residue of armour, bows, and other 
 warlike implements should remain in Warwick 
 Castle for his heir. Lord Bervagenny, in his will 
 on the 25th of April, 1408, bequeathed to his 
 son Richard the best sword he possessed, with 
 harness for the jousts of peace, and that which 
 belonged to war. 
 
 In the halls of old mansions, weapons of war 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 143 
 
 and for the chase usually adorned the walls ; but 
 they were not placed there for ornament, or 
 exhibition, but that they might be ready in those 
 cases of sudden necessity to which their pro- 
 prietors were at times exposed. 
 
 When once the mode of collecting arms and 
 armour for show was begun by an emperor, no 
 wonder that the example should be followed by 
 other sovereigns, especially by the petty princes 
 in his own dominions. It was an easy thing, too, 
 to make fanciful alterations in armour, and to 
 pass it off as being very ancient, when in fact it 
 was of modern manufacture ; this mode of making 
 ancient armour was very generally adopted, so 
 that the varied collections made contained little 
 on which confidence could be placed. 
 
 Among those who collected armour were the 
 knights of Malta, the states of Italy, and the 
 cantons of Switzerland, and their several exhi- 
 bitions soon became very costly and imposing, 
 not only on account of the precious metals which 
 were, in many instances, freely used in the fabri- 
 cation of armour, but also on account of the great 
 skill of the artists employed in adorning and 
 covering them with bas-reliefs of the most ex- 
 quisite workmanship. Armour being worn in 
 many cases for splendour and pageantry, no 
 expense was spared .in its formation. Sir Walter 
 
144 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 
 
 Raleigh went to court in a suit of solid silver, 
 which gave rise to the facetious remark, that he 
 carried a Spanish galleon on his back. 
 
 In different places, collections of armour are 
 very extensive. That of Dresden, the capital of 
 the kingdom of Saxony, occupies thirty-one cham- 
 bers, and is indeed a most imposing spectacle, 
 and consists of European specimens, including 
 Polish, Turkish, and Tartarian. In one of the 
 chambers are two suits of armour appearing 
 exactly as they were worn at a jousting-match 
 which took place in the Alten Market, in the 
 year 1557, between Augustus, first duke of 
 Saxony, and Albert, duke of Austria : in this 
 joust the duke of Austria was unhorsed. After 
 a joust, it was the custom in Germany to exhibit 
 the armour of the combatants in the position in 
 which it was worn in the tournament, to gratify 
 the curiosity of those who found pleasure in wit- 
 nessing such spectacles : 
 
 " The multitude impatient ran ; 
 For the fiery steed and the armed man, 
 In mock encounter, seem'd again 
 To thunder o'er the battle plain." 
 
 How long the different collections of armour 
 would have remained undisturbed, it is difficult 
 to say, if public commotions had not taken place ; 
 but when once a country is in a state of disorder 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 145 
 
 and agitation, the costliest collections of art are 
 but little respected. The civil wars in England, 
 the revolution in France, and the plunder of Italy, 
 Germany, and Spain by the French troops, scat- 
 tered most of the collected armour widely abroad, 
 and as those who got possession of it by plunder 
 knew that it would easily be identified by its 
 owners, so they disposed of it to dealers, through 
 whose means much of it found its way to this 
 country. The collection at Goodrich Court is 
 perhaps more varied than any other, because it 
 has been gathered from all parts of the world. 
 
 As in every collection of armour the most 
 ancient suits were the most valued, so every 
 species of deceit was resorted to, that might im- 
 pose on the credulity of those who were led by 
 curiosity to inspect them. Falsehood propagated 
 the most unblushing absurdities, and ignorance 
 and credulity received them as marvellous truths. 
 The helmet of Attila was shown at Naples ; the 
 armour of William the Conqueror was exhibited 
 in England. Morning stars of Roland and Oliver 
 were to be seen in France, and the sword of the 
 renowned Wallace in Scotland. Different states 
 vied with each other in their warlike relics, and 
 the imperial treasures were rivalled in the Chateau 
 of Chantilly and the palace of Greenwich. 
 
 The love of the marvellous is so favourable to 
 
146 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 
 
 deceit, that scarcely is the most ridiculous report 
 circulated without finding those who will greedily 
 devour it. In France, go where you will, every 
 piece of beautiful armour that is not already 
 assigned to some illustrious knight is pretty sure 
 to be given to Francis i. ; and in Germany, the 
 emperor Maximilian has the same compliment 
 paid to his memory. 
 
 Among the many unfounded pretensions made 
 by the keepers of collections, is that of possessing 
 armour made for women ; but the assertion that, 
 at any period women in any numbers wore armour 
 expressly made for them, is altogether unfounded. 
 When women have worn armour, and the in- 
 stances are few, they have put on suits formed 
 for men. The narrow-waisted armour of the six- 
 teenth century in some degree favours the de- 
 ception practised, when armour said to be made 
 for females is exhibited. The idea that queen 
 Elizabeth wore armour at Tilbury is a modern 
 invention, and not entitled to credit. 
 
 The suit of armour worn by Joan of Arc, the 
 maid of Orleans, who was burned to death, was 
 undoubtedly made to fit her body, by order of 
 the French king;. but to believe that it is now 
 exhibited is mere credulity ; most likely it was 
 altogether destroyed by the English who captured 
 her, and who would probably consider it polluted 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 14? 
 
 by the witchcraft of the wearer. Joan, after she 
 had sworn never again to put on man's attire, 
 was led on by an artifice to her ruin. The crafty 
 bishop of Beauvois, with the guilty design of 
 bringing about her death, summoned her to 
 attend the council when no other dress was left 
 in her apartment than a suit of armour ; this she 
 put on, and was on that account condemned as a 
 relapsed heretic. 
 
 At Genoa, many suits of armour are exhibited, 
 in which it is said ladies of honourable station 
 performed a crusade to the Holy Land in 1301, 
 and this narration, based on falsehood, is not 
 even suspected of imposture, by many who visit 
 the collection. 
 
 By the chicanery and fraud practised in amass- 
 ing armour, and passing it off as other than it 
 really was, all just notions of chronology were 
 confounded ; and as suits, said to he ancient, were 
 often decorated with modern inventions, the 
 dates of the imitative arts were altogether con- 
 fused. The clergy saw their interest was 
 furthered by the superstitious belief that certain 
 armour belonged to remarkable people ; for the 
 same credulity that believed it, the more readily 
 gave credence to the relics of the saints, which 
 were by them so generally exhibited. 
 
 It would take a volume of no ordinary size to 
 
148 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 
 
 recount the many fabulous legends which gained 
 almost universal credit. In the eleventh century 
 it was said that the real spear-head which pierced 
 the side of our Saviour was dug up at Antioch. 
 This spear was the occasion of a battle of great 
 notoriety being gained before the city by Raymond 
 of Toulouse. The head of the "holy spear" 
 was shown to Sir John Maundeville when he 
 visited Paris in the reign of Edward in., but he 
 asserts it to be an imposture. " I have seen," 
 says he, "the real spere-heed oftentyme at 
 Constantynople, but it is grettere than that at 
 Pary's." This real "spere-heed" is still ex- 
 hibited to the curious traveller at the monastery 
 of Eitch-mai-adzen in Armenia, stamped with a 
 Greek cross, a symbol not the most likely to be 
 found on the spear of a heathen soldier. The 
 miraculous power of this weapon in arresting the 
 plague is fully believed in, and on this beneficial 
 errand it is not unfrequently dispatched to con- 
 siderable distances. What will not find credence 
 when such mummeries are believed ? 
 
 The sword with which Peter cut off the ear of 
 Malchus, was shown at Rome ; but as there 
 appeared no reason why Rome alone should 
 enjoy the benefit of the fraud, Venice and Con- 
 stantinople each had a sword of the same descrip- 
 tion, exhibited at the same time, said to have 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 149 
 
 performed the same service. The sword, too, 
 which beheaded John the Baptist was shown at 
 Avignon, and the one that decapitated St. Paul, 
 in the "Eternal City." In relics of this kind a 
 strong contention prevailed, nor did even the 
 absurdity of exhibiting the same weapon, in 
 different places, at the same time, discountenance 
 the fraud, as each proprietor strenuously main- 
 tained the genuineness of his own relic. 
 
 In some instances, in former times, names were 
 given to celebrated swords, or rather to the 
 swords of celebrated men. One belonging to 
 Charlemagne was called Joyeuse ; this was shown 
 at Roquemado, St. Denis, and Nuremburg at the 
 same period ; the keeping of the sword of the 
 fabulous Guy Earl of Warwick was, so late as 
 1542, granted to one Edward Creswell, with a 
 stipend of twopence per day. One attributed to 
 William the Conqueror was preserved in a house 
 belonging to Henry vin., at Beddington, Surrey ; 
 and that called Curtana may have been seen by 
 many of our readers, as it is, even now, borne at 
 the ceremony of the coronation of our kings. 
 
 If it be a matter of any importance to go back 
 to the times of antiquity either to gratify our 
 curiosity, or to draw from thence lessons of in- 
 struction and usefulness, it is desirable to ascer- 
 tain with tolerable correctness the truth and 
 o 2 
 
150 CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT AEMOUK. 
 
 falsehood of any information handed down to us ; 
 and in this respect an attempt to clear away a 
 mass of absurd traditions relative to ancient arms 
 and armour is praiseworthy. The armoury at 
 Goodrich Court is the first collection of import- 
 ance formed on the basis of true chronology, 
 decided on the most attentive and careful ex- 
 amination of authorities. Sir Samuel Rush 
 Meyrick has, in addition to his labours at Good- 
 rich Court, arranged the royal horse-armoury in 
 the Tower of London, and fixed, in agreement 
 with royal direction, the true eras to the suits 
 in the guard-chamber at Windsor Castle. 
 
 It is well that the warlike propensities of our 
 ruder forefathers have subsided, and that it is 
 no longer the usage or taste of the times for men 
 to array themselves in coats of mail, and joust 
 with each other for pastime or renown ; but 
 what has been in olden times has an interest 
 from the circumstance that it throws much light 
 on the manners of those who are now mould- 
 ering, or rather who have mouldered, in the 
 grave ; those from whom our existence is de- 
 rived, and whose habits, no doubt, even at this 
 distant period, in some degree influence our 
 own. The old adage 
 
 " Follow thy father, good son, 
 And do as thy father has done," 
 
CURIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 15 1 
 
 has been influential in all ages, for virtue or 
 vice ; the peaceful or warlike disposition of one 
 period has a strong influence on the times that 
 follow. 
 
 A true knowledge of armour is necessary to 
 topographers in correctly describing or ascer- 
 taining the date of a monumental effigy, a 
 painting on glass, or an ancient seal. It is for 
 the same reason useful to the antiquary and the 
 historian. 
 
 It has been said with much truth that there 
 is scarcely a surer criterion of date than that of 
 dress. Down to the time of Charles n. all 
 artists among our forefathers represented the 
 subjects on which they were employed in the 
 fashion of their own time, as may be exemplified 
 in many ways. 
 
 The illuminated missals of other days, however 
 defective in many points, afford the most faithful 
 portrait of the dresses, dwellings, and furniture of 
 the times in which they were executed. Such as 
 are curious in these things must have observed 
 that in the representation of the crucifixion, the 
 ascension, or Christ betrayed, the Roman soldiers 
 invariably are habited and armed like those who 
 lived in the days of the artist. Some errors in 
 books detected by a knowledge of armour, are as 
 ludicrous as they are extraordinary. An account 
 
152 CUKIOSITIES OF ANCIENT ARMOUR. 
 
 of Arthur king of little Britain was written in the 
 time of Edward n., but a copy of it being made 
 at the close of the reign of Henry vi., the artist, 
 either through ignorance or inattention, disre- 
 garding the description of armour mentioned in 
 the book, which referred to the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, introduced the plate armour of the period in 
 which he lived, instead of the mail armour used 
 before. 
 
 A knowledge of armour is also of great service 
 to the collector of MSS. and early printed books, 
 as it will frequently detect errors and frauds that 
 cannot by other means be discovered. After all 
 the discussions and learned dissertations as to 
 the priority of printing between Germany and 
 Holland, the question may perhaps be decided 
 by this test, the Speculum Salvationis being 
 adorned with wood cuts, the armour of which is 
 of the commencement of the reign of Henry vi. 
 
THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH 
 COURT. 
 
 I WILL now resume my remarks on arms and 
 armour. 
 
 The extended collection of arms at Goodrich 
 Court begins with the rude weapons of savage 
 life. Some of these are made of simple wood, 
 and others shaped out of flint, stone, or slate. 
 A part of these has been supplied from the isles 
 of the Pacific Ocean, and some are the manufac- 
 ture of the ancient Britons, before their inter- 
 course with the Phoenicians had improved their 
 knowledge. After these come arms and armour 
 of copper, alloyed with tin, Greek, Etruscan, or 
 Celtic ; and then, in the regular order of chrono- 
 logy, such as are formed of steel. We cannot 
 gaze on these without conjuring up in our imagi- 
 nation the warriors of diiferent countries who 
 used them. Here stands an ancient Briton, 
 wielding a massive club of hard wood, and there 
 a savage from the Pacific, throwing his javelin 
 pointed with stone. Greeks and Etruscans wage 
 their war with sword and buckler, and knights, 
 
154 THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 
 
 armed cap-a-pie, rush forward on fiery steeds 
 to the deadly strife, with couched spears : 
 
 "Thus man, from virtue wand'ring wide, 
 Misled by passion, lust, and pride, 
 Of every nation, tribe, and clan, 
 Will rise against his fellow-man." 
 
 In olden time, a high value was set on a good 
 sword, and astonishing feats were effected with 
 them. Coucy, earl of Ulster, was a knight of 
 great strength ; so much so, that on one occa- 
 sion, when king John of England and Philippe 
 Auguste of France were present, he cut through 
 a helmet of steel with one blow of his sword, 
 and buried his weapon so deeply in the wooden 
 post on which the helm was placed, that no 
 other person beside himself was able to with- 
 draw it. 
 
 It is an assertion of sir Gore Ouseley, that the 
 naib, or deputy of the vizier of the Nawaub of 
 Oude, refused 10,000/. for an Andrea Ferrara 
 straight blade, because it had cut off the heads 
 of several buffaloes. He also asserts, that in 
 the year 1794, the Nawaub of Oude paid for a 
 scimitar the enormous and almost incredible sum 
 of 24,000. ! Probably it was set with precious 
 stones. 
 
 The Turks greatly surpass others in the use of 
 the scimitar, which weapon is finely formed and 
 
THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 155 
 
 tempered. A cut made by one of the spahis, or 
 Turkish cavalry, will penetrate through armour 
 and pass into the body, whereas a stroke awk- 
 wardly made would shiver the weapon to pieces. 
 What slaughter must ensue when thousands of 
 these scimitars are wielded in deadly combat 
 by those who know how to use them ! It is a 
 spectacle too terrible to dwell upon. Highly 
 tempered scimitars, though not of the finest metal, 
 will now fetch from ten to a hundred ducats, 
 which plainly shows the high estimation in which 
 they are held. 
 
 When Elphi Bey was in England, he, as a 
 matter of course, went to examine what was curi- 
 ous in the various collections of antiquities in the 
 metropolis and other places, among which was the 
 king's extensive and valuable Asiatic armoury, 
 where were laid before him two costly scimitars. 
 Elphi Bey lifted one of them to his forehead, with 
 profound reverence, and then pressing it to his 
 lips, pronounced the name of Mourad Bey. He 
 then took up the other, in the same respectful 
 manner, paying to it the same homage, and 
 exclaiming aloud, " Osman Bey Tambourgi ! " 
 Now, as the words spoken by Elphi Bey were the 
 names of the sometime owners of the scimitars, the 
 king, who was present, was surprised, and much 
 puzzled to conceive how he could tell to whom 
 
156 THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 
 
 the weapons had belonged. This was, however, 
 afterwards explained. Whenever a Mohammedan 
 of high rank had a weapon made for him, he 
 selected some favourite passage from the Koran, 
 which was engraven upon it; this passage de- 
 signated its owner, in the same manner as the 
 motto on a coat of arms declares the family to 
 which it belongs. Elphi Bey, therefore, found 
 no difficulty in discovering the original owners 
 of the scimitars by the inscriptions he saw 
 engraven. 
 
 In Goodrich Court an apartment has been fitted 
 up representing an ancient tournament. Two 
 knights, armed cap-a-pie, are spurring in fiery 
 haste at each other ; while around are mail-clad 
 warriors, and a tree, from whose branches hang 
 the emblazoned shields of the combatants. A 
 word on this ancient entertainment may interest 
 our readers. It has been revived more than once 
 in modern times. The officers of the British 
 army, during the revolutionary war in North 
 America, found leisure to entertain themselves 
 with this sport. Marie Antoinette, the ill-fated 
 queen of France, also had a tournament revived 
 for her gratification by her courtiers. The 
 Eglinton tilting -match, in Scotland, also, will 
 be fresh in the recollection of many of our 
 readers. 
 
THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 157 
 
 The rewards given in tournaments were often 
 very splendid, and sometimes consisted of silver 
 helmets. Every combatant was required to be 
 worthy of the privilege of contending ; and if any 
 one presented himself to fight under false proofs 
 of nobility, he was condemned to ride on the rail 
 of the barrier, bare-headed ; he was degraded by 
 having his shield and helmet reversed and trodden 
 under foot, his horse given to the officer at arms, 
 and himself sent back upon a mare. 
 
 Though tournaments were considered as pas- 
 time, they were so dangerous that the powers of 
 church and state were exerted to check them. 
 The knights, however, of that period were so 
 infatuated with the splendour and pageantry of 
 tournaments, that the urgent ordinances of coun- 
 cils, the eloquent harangues of pulpits, and the 
 forcible writings of the clergy were alike disre- 
 garded ; they checked not the enthusiastic pas- 
 sion for this martial sport. 
 
 It not uufrequently occurs that excess does 
 more to arrest the progress of a mania than the 
 most violent opposition ; and this was, in a great 
 degree, the case with jousting. Henry u. forbade 
 the practice altogether, while Richard i. endea- 
 voured to compromise by allowing it to take place 
 in particular places, and at stated seasons. Dif- 
 ferent monarchs thus adopted a different policy ; 
 
158 THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 
 
 Henry in. overlooked jousting, and Edward I., 
 on the contrary, afforded it his royal countenance. 
 In following out this courtly amusement, many 
 precautions were from time to time taken to 
 render it less dangerous. Spears were used with 
 blunted points ; swords formed of whalebone 
 were introduced, as well as protections of thick 
 tough leather ; but while these were resorted to 
 in jousts of peaceable combat, the accustomed 
 warlike weapons and habiliments were still in 
 requisition for encounters of a more desperate 
 character, or " to the utterance," as they were 
 termed in tournament phraseology. In the same 
 mariner as a sham fight among soldiers is consi- 
 dered necessary to prepare them for actual war- 
 fare, so the diversified exercises in jousting were 
 thought fit practice to train the young knight to 
 feats of deadly enterprise ; and for this reason, 
 among others, the armour used in tournaments 
 was stronger and heavier than that worn in the 
 battle-field. 
 
 When a tournament took place, the spaced 
 railed out for the occasion was called " the lists," 
 and the horses of the j ousters were kept apart 
 by a paling called " the barrier." And as great 
 multitudes usually attended, double lists were 
 frequently formed, that no accident might arise 
 from the pressure of the crowd. The fleetest and 
 
THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 159 
 
 strongest horses were selected for the tournay ; 
 for when the knights were not unhorsed, nor 
 their lances broken, their steeds, one or both, 
 were usually thrown down. It must have been 
 a fearful spectacle to gaze on, when the knight, 
 armed cap-h-pie, was seen to 
 
 " Stoop his head and couch his spear, 
 And spur his steed in full career." 
 
 And well it is that such cruel pageants are passed 
 away. 
 
 It would be a difficult task to give even a slight 
 sketch of the arms and armour of Goodrich Court, 
 the one and the other being so numerous. The 
 great variety, too, gives the collection an added 
 charm, for the wandering eye sees one suit of 
 armour of black, or of russet brown, another of 
 bright steel ; a third is ribbed, a fourth fluted, a 
 fifth chased, a sixth puffed and engraved, a 
 seventh embossed, and an eighth inlaid. Then 
 there is armour for so many different sorts of 
 men ; knights, cavaliers, pikemen, cuirassiers, 
 harquebusiers, and carabineers ; and of such 
 diversified kinds, Asiatic, Turkish, Persian, and 
 Mahratta; chain armour, plate armour, Tartar, 
 Indian, and Albanian. 
 
 But if the armour is varied, the arms are still 
 more so ; Burmese, Japanese, Malay, and African 
 meet the eye, with maces, battle-axes, halberds 
 
160 THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 
 
 and hammers, swords, spears, crossbows, and 
 splendid targes of embossed leather and steel. 
 The targe of Francis i. of France is, perhaps, the 
 most exquisite piece of art in the whole collec- 
 tion. Roman and British arms are contrasted 
 with Danish, Saxon, and German. Two-handed 
 swords lie between morning stars and military 
 forks ; and sabres, poniards, and stilettoes are 
 mingled with muskets, matchlocks, petronels, and 
 pistols. 
 
 As we gaze on these relics of past ages, even 
 amid the strange and undefinable interest they 
 excite, a mournful regret steals over the mind, to 
 think what pains have been taken, what ingenuity 
 has been exerted by mankind to plague, to injure, 
 and destroy each other. Hardly need I appeal 
 to the reader with regard to the enormity of 
 wanton and ungodly warfare. The horrors of 
 war have in all ages been hidden or disguised by 
 pomp and splendour, The panoply, the embla- 
 zoned arms and gorgeous equipage of knights, 
 with the high renown they acquired, gave a false 
 glory to the profession of arms ; as the scarlet 
 dress, the flaunting flag, the drum, and the 
 trumpet still invest with an imposing eclat the 
 life of the soldier. What a contrast, however, 
 is there between the ungodly warrior, clad in 
 steel, rushing ruthlessly on his kind, and the 
 
THE ARMOURY OF GOODRICH COURT. 161 
 
 Christian warrior fighting against every unhal- 
 lowed affection under the banner of the cross. 
 The one, stained with blood and crime, seeks 
 onlv a perishing renown ; the other, wielding the 
 shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit, begirt 
 with truth, having the helmet of salvation on his 
 head, the breastplate of righteousness over his 
 heart, and his feet shod with the preparation 
 of the gospel, strives for a crown of unfading 
 glory. 
 
 p 2 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 
 
 " The country wins me still, 
 I never framed a wish or form'd a plan, 
 That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss, 
 But there I laid the scene." 
 
 THERE are seasons of joy and sorrow in which 
 humanity is always interested. No one, whose 
 heart is heating healthily in his bosom, whose 
 sympathies are not vitiated hy vice, nor rendered 
 selfish by consuming care, can see a bridal party 
 without a glow of cheerfulness, or gaze on a fu- 
 neral procession without solemnity. These things 
 make a claim on our better natures, and he is not 
 to be envied who responds not to the appeal. A 
 kindly nature and a Christian spirit will alike 
 " rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with 
 them that weep." 
 
 We (for again would I avail myself of the plural 
 pronoun) know a pair who are about to be wedded, 
 and they have our kindest wishes ; for 
 
 " What are all the charms of earth, 
 All its pride, its treasure worth, 
 With no partner at our side, 
 Thoughts and feelings to divide f" 
 
 Taking the advantage of a sunny day, we have 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 163 
 
 paid a visit to the bridal home, with the bride- 
 groom-elect for our companion. Let us sketch 
 
 the scene. The house is on the road, and 
 
 about a mile and a half from the town. There are 
 three dwellings on the common, and the situation 
 is one of the prettiest we ever saw. The houses 
 are so environed with trees, that it is hardly pos- 
 sible to see them till you enter the gates. From 
 the window is a prospect of the wide common, 
 with fern and furze, and the solitary broad road, 
 with its straight avenues of fine beeches, elms, and 
 limes, for two miles in length. The bridal home 
 is adorned with jessamine and creepers. How 
 sweet the country ! How truly might the poet say 
 of it, 
 
 " Who seeks to praise thee and to make thee known 
 To other's hearts, must prize thee in his own." 
 
 Rooks, swallows, and blackbirds abound in the 
 neighbourhood, and there are nightingales and 
 chirping grasshoppers ; with no lack of hares, 
 foxes, pheasants, and partridges. Report says, 
 too, in a whisper, that speckled newts, scaly 
 snakes, and flaring glowworms, with croaking 
 frogs, and moonlight-flitting bats, " sailing through 
 the twilight duskily, like some unearthly thing," 
 are now and then to be seen. If the bridal pair 
 are naturalists, this will be an advantage, and if 
 
164 THE BEIDAL HOME. 
 
 not, it will be little or no annoyance. Happy in 
 themselves, what will they care about 
 
 The newt, the frog, the briar, the brake, 
 The flitting bat, and gliding snake? 
 
 Their hearts will be too sunny to regard these 
 things as shadows. 
 
 ^ Fair are the Scotch and common firs, and very 
 pleasant is the scent of sweetbriar and wild honey- 
 suckle. Large and small convolvoluses, beautifully 
 blue ; with mallows, harebells, buttercups, and 
 heath, beautiful red heath, with little bells, 
 and all the other nameless little flowers, are to be 
 seen on the common ; so that it is not one of those 
 bleak, desolate, out-of-the-world places, where 
 fogs and quagmires and wills-o'-the-wisp hold 
 their solitary court. The more we look around, 
 the more a liberty-loving spirit prevails within us. 
 We enjoy the freedom from restraint, and we 
 wonder that any one should live in the town, who 
 could live in the country. 
 
 But let us now leave the ferny common, the 
 Scotch firs, the honeysuckles, the beautiful red 
 heath with little bells, the birds, the bats, and the 
 grasshoppers : let us go out of the imaginary mists 
 and moonlight, into the little comfortable parlour, 
 where the sofa and a table with tea and cakes 
 invite us to conversation and a happy evening. 
 Wherever we go, our friendly host appears to have 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 165 
 
 a pleasure even beyond our own. It is because 
 he sees in anticipation, in every place, the image 
 of her who is dear to him : 
 
 It flits before him here and there ; 
 He sees and feels it everywhere. 
 
 Let us describe the house, the bridal home. 
 First there is the square hall, not very large in its 
 dimensions, and not very small ; but really just 
 the size it ought to be. On one side are doors 
 leading to the parlour and the kitchen ; on the 
 other side, doors leading to the staircase and the 
 drawing-room ; straight before you is a table with 
 a glass-case of stuffed birds and reptiles ; while 
 behind is the elegant little garden, but more of 
 that hereafter. This will be a sweet domestic 
 home : 
 
 "Oh, friendly to the best pursuits of man, 
 Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, 
 Domestic life, in rural pleasure pass'd ! " 
 
 Between the doors is a deer's head, with enor- 
 mous antlers, a fine specimen of the stag ; and 
 this is so firmly fixed that it serves as a depository 
 on which to hang hats, coats, and cloaks. Between 
 the other doors, on the opposite side, gleams a 
 fox's head, with ruddy brown fur, sharp nose, and 
 little sparkling eyes. 
 
 Shall we go into the drawing-room ? This is the 
 best room in the house, loftier and larger than the 
 
166 THE BRIDAL HOME. 
 
 others, with two windows, and such a charming 
 prospect ! As you look forth, you see a bewitching 
 interlacing of different-coloured trees and swinging 
 boughs, and despair of ever being able, with your 
 pencil, to give even a tolerable sketch of the 
 place. 
 
 The paper of the room is crimson. A round 
 table occupies the centre of the apartment ; paint- 
 ings, water-coloured drawings, and French prints, 
 in handsome frames, adorn the walls, and little 
 tables stand, here and there, covered with curiosi- 
 ties. There are also a few choice specimens of 
 sculpture. In short, you see profusion without 
 needless display, and feel that you are surrounded 
 with gems, and that there is quite space enough 
 to move about, without the fear of disarranging 
 them. 
 
 The furniture, though new, has a companion- 
 able air and comfortable appearance, neither slight 
 nor Frenchified, and good taste is shown not only 
 here and there, but everywhere. As we proceed, 
 we converse cheerfully with our agreeable host, in 
 whose animated eyes we read the fair future that 
 is treasured up in his exulting heart. 
 
 Let us mount the staircase. The house is only 
 two stories high, but somewhat long. We soon 
 find ourselves in another hall, resembling that 
 below, with windows facing each other ; the one to 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 167 
 
 the back with a prospect of city spires in the dis- 
 tance, the other to the front, stretching over the 
 grounds. Soon, in this bridal home, will the 
 bridal pair participate 
 
 " Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, 
 And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
 Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours 
 Of long uninterrupted evening know." 
 
 This upper hall, which has a table and chairs 
 at each window, can easily be converted into an 
 occasional dining-room, or it would be a sweet, 
 cool room for a tea-party on a sultry summer's 
 evening. We sit down at one of the windows, 
 open the casement, and enjoy the fresh breeze as 
 it comes to us scented by the heathy common and 
 the cornfields. We look down on the apple-trees 
 such apple-trees ! so abundantly laden ! The plum- 
 trees, too, seemingly borne down by the weight of 
 the purple fruit with the bloom upon it, are quite 
 a picture. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the clean, airy 
 bed-rooms, with their new furniture, pictures, and 
 flowers. Would that thousands, who have, we fear, 
 but dismal dormitories in the crowded city, could 
 enjoy such clean and airy accommodation at the 
 close of their daily toil ! Descending again to the 
 ground-floor, which shall we visit first, the flower 
 or the kitchen -gar den ? If we visit the kitchen- 
 
168 THE JBRfDAL HOME. 
 
 garden, all the romance vanishes when we get 
 among the apples, the plums, and the vegetables. 
 And if we go at once to the fruit, it may look as if 
 we were too impatient to regale ourselves ! Well ! 
 we are among the dahlias, the roses, the sweet- 
 briar, the pansies, the hydrangias, the sweet- 
 smelling mignonette, and the pink, purple, crim- 
 son, and scarlet. What are their names, that 
 grow in clusters ? I think verbena arid the lovely 
 azure blue nemophyla insignis. All the flower- 
 beds are in the centre of a lawn of fresh, soft 
 grass, and are cut into curious, elegant, and at- 
 tractive forms. Round the sides of the flower- 
 garden are peach, apple, and plum-trees. The 
 creeper-covered summer arbour is approached by 
 an archway of trees, and pleasant it is to be seated 
 there, with the lawn, and the stands of growing 
 geraniums and fuchsias spread out before you. 
 While 
 
 Here the insect world resort ; 
 Here they tell us in their sport, 
 Dancing in the summer ray, 
 That life, alas 1 is but a day ! 
 
 On passing a wicket-gate, we emerge into a 
 spacious kitchen- garden, twice the size of that we 
 have left, abounding in fruit and in vegetables of 
 all kinds ; asparagus, celery, and broccoli among 
 them. Showers of apples, falling from the trees 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 169 
 
 in windy days, find their way to the piggery, with 
 cabbages, cauliflowers, lettuces, potatoes, turnips, 
 and carrots. Everything seems to spring up in 
 profusion, and the two pigs are already growing 
 fat. The servants have been picking for us a 
 huge basket of peas, to take home with us, yet 
 there seems to be quite as many left as when they 
 began. There is a carriage-entrance to the grounds, 
 and a coach-house, and stabling for six horses; 
 but the carriage and horses are not there yet 
 every one should have something to hope for: 
 these things are to come in their proper time. 
 The watch-dog, between a Newfoundland and a 
 shepherd's dog, is a capital fellow ; and the smaller 
 one, in his way, is not a whit behind him. The 
 two cats are perfectly black, quite as fat as cats 
 ought to be, and the pet canary is a famous 
 singer. 
 
 But think not, ye bridal pair, while wandering 
 through this fair retreat, we fall into the error of 
 regarding the attractions of the bridal home as 
 the elements of happiness ! Pleasant, yea, de- 
 lightful as they are, of themselves they are as no- 
 thing when compared with the peace and joy that 
 can only be given you from above. The sunshine 
 of the heart must be flung over the whole in add- 
 ing to each other's joys, in bearing each other's 
 burdens, and in helping one another on your way 
 Q 
 
170 THE BRIDAL HOME. 
 
 to heaven. You must " look upwards as you go 
 onwards !" 
 
 " Think not, the object gain'd, that all is done; 
 The prize of happiness must yet be won." 
 
 You must bring to this homestead of joy in- 
 dustrious habits, quiet graces, domestic virtues, 
 and unaffected piety. The heart must be im- 
 pressed, and the fireside hallowed with holy hopes 
 and heavenly expectations. The word of God 
 must be read with reverence, prayer must be 
 offered, the song of praise must be heard, and the 
 sabbath bell must be hailed with joy. You must 
 live, and move, and breathe with a hallowed in- 
 fluence around you, and that will temper you for 
 shine and shade. You will be grateful in pros- 
 perity, and prepared patiently to endure your al- 
 lotment of worldly trouble. Fair as is the bridal 
 home in its outward scenery, and its inward luxu- 
 ries and comfort, 
 
 "Yet neither these delights, nor aught beside 
 That appetite can ask, or wealth provide, 
 Can save you always from a tedious day, 
 Or shine the dulness of still life away; 
 Divine communion, carefully enjoy'd, 
 Or sought with energy, must fill the void. 
 Oh sacred art, to which alone life owes 
 Its happiest seasons, and a peaceful close 1' 
 
 How sweet, how tranquil, how consoling the 
 quiet joys of a domestic country home, when con- 
 trasted with the feverish excitement of city gaie- 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 171 
 
 ties ; where, too often, the heart upbraids itself 
 for its past enjoyment, and mourns over the re- 
 membrance of wasted and misspent hours ! Un- 
 availing regret and bitter remorse follow hard after 
 fashionable follies : from such temptations you 
 may dwell secure in your peaceful retirement. 
 Seek, then, the calmer relaxation and enjoyments 
 that your judgment cannot condemn, and which 
 your after reflections cannot but approve. This 
 very delightful abode of yours ; this bridal home, 
 at one season lit up with summer's sun, and at 
 another surrounded with winter's snows, will set 
 before you the lesson that earthly scenes are 
 changing : be prepared for changes ! Expect not 
 perfection in each other, but be ready to make 
 .arge allowances. Agreeable persons, and attrac- 
 tive mind and manners, with varied acquirements, 
 are not enough of themselves to secure esteem 
 and affection : be it yours to manifest more endur- 
 ing excellences. 
 
 A husband, however urgent and energetic his 
 business may require him to be, should unbend 
 at home, and become the friend and companion 
 of his partner. And a wife, however highly 
 endowed with intellect, should never neglect her 
 domestic duties ; for on her attention to these, the 
 comfort of the married life much depends. 
 
 You will do well in fitting yourselves, in all 
 
172 THE BRIDAL HOMK. 
 
 things, as far as you can, for each other's society. 
 " This knot," as one says, speaking of marriage, 
 " is easily tied ; but like the old Gordian knot, it 
 cannot be untied. Death alone can sever it." It 
 is a sad thing when marriage is the marriage of 
 the body, and not of the soul ; when husbands 
 and wives are not congenial companions ; when, 
 through a want of intellectual fitness, they are, 
 though married, 
 
 " Alone ! alone ! All, all alone ! " 
 
 How many are there in wedded life who, with 
 all the advantages of a lovely neighbourhood, a 
 pleasant abode, a well-regulated establishment, in 
 the midst of social parties and elegant seclusion, 
 are yet alone ! 
 
 Under favourable circumstances, wedded love 
 is an abundant source of earthly felicity. 
 
 "Hail, wedded love! by gracious Heaven design'd, 
 At once the source and glory of mankind ! 
 'T is this can toil, and grief, and pain assuage, 
 Secure our youth, and dignify oui age: 
 'T is this fair fame and guiltless pleasure brings, 
 And shakes rich plenty from its brooding wings; 
 Gilds duty's roughest path with friendship's ray, 
 And strews with roses sweet the narrow way." 
 
 A good beginning in the wedded life is an 
 excellent thing, but it is not all. You will do well 
 to be watchful that there is no declension in your 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 173 
 
 affection. One of the greatest errors committed 
 by married people is the want of attention to 
 those things that charmed each other when they 
 were single. Every falling off here produces in- 
 jurious consequences. 
 
 If, through carelessness, the wife becomes less 
 attractive, or the husband less attentive, what 
 wonder can it be if affection decraeses ? This is 
 not a result that may follow, but one that must 
 follow. An untidy wife, and a negligent husband, 
 proclaim to all around how little they care for one 
 another. 
 
 You must not forget that you have taken each 
 other for better and for worse. It is an easy thing 
 to love what is lovely in each other ; to smile 
 when the sun shines, and to be kind and good- 
 tempered when your partner is kind and good- 
 tempered too ; but can you put up with each 
 other's infirmities, bear with each other's way- 
 wardness, and forgive each other's errors ? Be 
 watchful over yourselves. Be especially careful of 
 the beginnings of unkindness and altercation : 
 
 " Alas ! how light a cause may move 
 Dissensions between hearts that love I 
 A something light as air a look, 
 
 A word unkind, or wrongly taken 
 Oh ! love, that tempests never shook, 
 A breath, a touch like this has shaken." 
 
 Have you never seen the eye inflamed with 
 a 2 
 
174 THE BRIDAL HOME. 
 
 wrath, or heard the tongue sharpened with bitter- 
 ness ? Oh ! it is an evil thing for those in wedded 
 life to dwell together in hatred, not in love, in- 
 creasing, instead of bearing, each other's burdens. 
 Troubles will come without being sought after, 
 and there are thorns and briers enough in the world 
 without our gathering them, and planting frhem 
 in each other's bosoms. Another error is that of 
 forming an acquaintance with lovers of pleasure. 
 Hospitality is a virtue, but extravagance is a fatal 
 error. To be broken in upon by rude and boister- 
 ous mirth, to be tempted to give lavish and 
 splendid entertainments, and to be led into ex- 
 citing scenes of public gaiety, would be destructive 
 of all your comfort. These scenes of fitful 
 delight are often succeeded by weariness, domestic 
 irregularity, disturbed repose, self-accusations, and 
 a consciousness of useless expenditure. The 
 frivolous fascinations, trifling converse, and flatter- 
 ing freedoms of a ball-room have poisoned the 
 peace of many a happy pair for ever. The 
 domestic hearth, with its tranquil enjoyments, 
 friendly gatherings, and seasons of prayer and 
 praise, is the very homestead of all the virtues. 
 Barter not, then, the pure gold of quiet retire- 
 ment for the sparkling tinsel of turbulent gaiety : 
 
 " Sigh not in vain for pleasure 1 
 Oh do not wildly roam 
 
THE BRIDAL HOME. 175 
 
 But seek that hidden treasure 
 At home, sweet home ! " 
 
 Cultivate each other's tastes, cater for each 
 other's comfort, arid care for one another when 
 absence divides you. The most trifling attention, 
 the smallest mark of affection that shows you 
 have thought of each other, will knit you in closer 
 bands, and increase your mutual confidence. 
 
 Make yourselves acquainted with each other's 
 prejudices and prepossessions, that you may avoid 
 giving pain inadvertently, and be able to add to 
 each other's pleasures. Foster each other's vir- 
 tues, gently reprove each other's failings, and 
 especially help one another in holy things. 
 Your sabbaths and your seasons of devotion 
 depend much on each other's piety. The sup- 
 port of a wife strengthens a Christian husband ; 
 the defection of a husband sadly weakens a 
 Christian wife ; " Consider one another to pro- 
 voke unto love and to good works." 
 
 Love one another for life and for death, for 
 earth and for heaven ; for no love but this will 
 endure amid the change of seasons, and the trials 
 arid temptations of the world. Practice no use- 
 less reserve towards each other, and make no 
 confidants of others in regard to things which 
 ought ever to be locked up in your own bosoms : 
 an inattention to these points will cost you dear. 
 
176 THE BRIDAL HOME. 
 
 Avoid, as you would avoid the plague, the 
 poor, pitiful spirit of striving for the mastery. 
 This is a rock on which many a goodly matrimo- 
 nial vessel has been wrecked. God's word has 
 declared the husband to be the " head of the 
 wife," and from God's word there is no appeal. 
 The same Divine authority that says, " Husbands, 
 love your wives," says also, " "Wives, submit 
 yourselves unto your own husbands." Neither of 
 these injunctions can be neglected without dis- 
 turbing the other ; for if the husband loves not 
 his wife, how can he expect her willingly to sub- 
 mit to him ? and if the wife submits not to her 
 husband, how can she reasonably expect him to 
 love her ? Be of one mind in these points, for 
 you cannot walk together lovingly unless you are 
 agreed. 
 
 The following remark, though expressed in a 
 homely way, is well worth your attention : " If 
 you have made your calculations for fine weather 
 only, go and bespeak an umbrella, for be sure 
 you will have need of it. If you think to look at 
 each other always with the same fond and affec- 
 tionate regard that you have yet done, you will 
 be mistaken. I tell you, in spite of your fairy 
 dreams of unabated love, that if you go through 
 the first year of your married life without a single 
 heart-burning, you will deserve to have your pic- 
 
THE BK1DAL HOME. 177 
 
 tures framed and glazed, and hung up in the 
 market- hall for universal admiration. No ! no ! 
 I will tell you the truth ; however you try to 
 flatter and deceive one another, you are a pair of 
 poor, weak, erring, sinful creatures, requiring 
 help from on high every moment of your lives, to 
 keep you from inattention, from selfishness, from 
 bitterness, and from hatred. If you really wish 
 to love one another always, you must love God 
 always for none but God can preserve your 
 affection, and enable you to bear each other's 
 burdens." 
 
 Thus might we go on quoting and commenting 
 by the hour, but we must not overwhelm you 
 with our remarks. To sum up all mistrust 
 yourselves ; seek constantly for Divine aid to 
 keep your feet from straying into crooked paths, 
 and your hearts from wandering into evil ways. 
 Fear God, and keep his commandments ; hold 
 in remembrance the sacrifice of the Saviour; 
 love one another, and bear one another's bur- 
 dens : 
 
 We will not paint the future hours, 
 
 In hues that truth denies ; 
 Nor deck with artificial flowers 
 
 The scenes that round you rise. 
 There will be frosts, and faded leaves, 
 
 And clouds we kno\\ thtre will; 
 
178 THE BKIDAL HOME. 
 
 Thorns spring amid the rosy bower, 
 But when dark shadows round you lower, 
 And sad and pensive thoughts have power. 
 Bear with each other still ! 
 
 While fancy spreads her glittering toys 
 
 With sunshine on her wings, 
 Remember well that earthly joys 
 
 Are transitory things. 
 The sun that glows so fair and bright 
 
 Will set behind the hill; 
 Then, should a tear-drop dim your eye, 
 Let hope and faith the sorrow dry, 
 And, while you lift your thoughts on higfy 
 
 Bear with each other still ! 
 
 Exultingly go on your way 
 
 While youth and health are given, 
 With many a gladsome earthly ray 
 
 And sunny beam from Heaven. 
 A banquet fair, profusely spread, 
 
 E'en now awaits your will; 
 Unnumber'd blessings court your choicfcj 
 Yet, hear your heavenly Father's voice, 
 And, while your glowing hearts rejoice, 
 
 Bear with each other still! 
 
ON OVERWHELMING 
 CALAMITIES. 
 
 THERE are, perhaps, few who have lived long 
 in the world who have not, at one period or other, 
 been brought into contact with some fearful afflic- 
 tion and overwhelming calamity. I am about to 
 enter on the relation of an occurrence of this kind, 
 which, unless my memory be treacherous, I have 
 not before described. In doing this, I am going 
 back to a season when my brow was ungraven 
 with years, and when gray hairs had not yet 
 numbered me among those whose earthly days 
 must of necessity be drawing to an end. These 
 backward glances, these reminiscences of the past, 
 when they remind us of calamities from which we 
 have been mercifully preserved, ought to redden 
 our cheeks with shame for our ingratitude, excite 
 in us fresh impulses of thankfulness, and add a 
 new string to our harp of praise. 
 
 I was once acquainted with two brothers ; they 
 were young men of respectable family and good 
 connexions, and were engaged in a prosperous 
 business. Scarcely was their dwelling more than 
 
180 ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 
 
 a stone's cast from my own, so that we were both 
 neighbours and friends. One department of their 
 lucrative business, was the manufacturing of per- 
 cussion caps for guns and fowling-pieces, and for 
 these the demand was very considerable. They 
 were diligent in business, and had been brought 
 up in principles of integrity and piety, so that the 
 promise of the future was fair. But man is 
 short-sighted, and comprehends not the inscruta- 
 ble designs of his almighty Maker. Before him 
 fall the young and the old, the weak and the 
 strong; the rush withereth ere it groweth up, 
 and the monarch oak is riven by the lightning. 
 
 To me is unknown what was the exciting 
 cause which led the elder brother to a deed of 
 desperation. Whether unexpected care, un- 
 bridled passion, or sudden aberration of mind 
 goaded him onwards, I cannot tell ; it is enough 
 to say that he fell by his own hand, and that his 
 family, by this overwhelming calamity, was 
 plunged into the deepest affliction. The melan- 
 choly tidings reached me immediately, and I was 
 soon among his sorrowing survivors. 
 
 I found the bereaved wife of my poor fallen 
 friend, sitting alone, mute, motionless, and 
 almost as pale as marble. No answer did she 
 return to my questions, and no consciousness did 
 she manifest that I was speaking to her. She 
 
ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 181 
 
 had the appearance of one petrified by affliction. 
 It was, however, otherwise with the widowed mo- 
 ther of the deceased, for though heavily laden with 
 sorrow, she bore it as a Christian should bear 
 affliction. In that dark hour of earthly trouble 
 she looked to her heavenly Father for support 
 and consolation. There was a calmness, a bow- 
 ing down before the High and Holy One ; a mute 
 resignation to the Divine will, and a kissing of 
 the rod, that spoke of a mind accustomed to 
 go to the Strong for strength in the season of 
 calamity : 
 
 " A bruised reed he will not break ; 
 Afflictions all his children feel ; 
 He wounds them for his mercy's sake, 
 He wounds .to heal. " 
 
 The remains of the deceased brother were 
 deposited in the adjoining burial-ground, and 
 often has the close of even found me musing over 
 the green hillock that lay at the foot of the 
 graven stone erected on the spot. 
 
 Weeks and months rolled on, and afflictive as 
 this domestic trial had been to those within its 
 immediate influence, daily interests, avocations, 
 and cares had rendered less painful to them the 
 remembrance of the past. We often represent 
 Time as a stern, inflexible old man, caring for 
 little else but his scythe and his hour-glass ; but 
 
 R 
 
182 ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 
 
 might we not give him credit for a touch of kind- 
 ness, seeing that he soothes our sorrows, gently 
 binding up the bones that are broken, and pour- 
 ing oil and wine into the wounds of the bruised ? 
 
 1 was sitting alone at my books, when sud- 
 denly a tremendous explosion shook the floor 
 under my feet, and the walls around me, making 
 the window-frames rattle, and leaving an impres- 
 sion that something like an earthquake had taken 
 place. Hastening to the window, I perceived 
 that the atmosphere was thick, as if the whole 
 square had, in some degree, been darkened with 
 smoke and dust, and people were hurrying to and 
 fro. Feeling persuaded that an accident of a 
 fearful kind had taken place, I sallied forth to 
 ascertain the nature of the calamity. As a crowd 
 had collected on one side of the square, I found 
 no difficulty in making myself acquainted with 
 what had occurred. An explosion had taken 
 place on the premises occupied by the brother of 
 him whom I have mentioned as already destroyed. 
 
 The detonating powder used in the manufac- 
 ture of percussion caps requires extreme care, as 
 a slight pressure will at times cause it to explode; 
 it is, therefore, highly expedient that small quan- 
 tities only should be prepared at one time. There 
 is, however, when large orders are received, a 
 temptation to prepare more at one time than is 
 
ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 183 
 
 consistent with safety. Whether a case of this 
 kind gave rise to the occurrence which had taken 
 place, I cannot tell. The explosion was terrific, 
 and its consequences truly awful. 
 
 On entering the premises, the wreck and ruin 
 which surrounded me presented a frightful ap- 
 pearance. Part of a roof had been blown away, 
 walls were burst through, the furniture and im- 
 plements in one apartment had been forced into 
 another, and windows in all directions were 
 shivered to pieces. Workmen were employed in 
 extricating their unhappy comrades from the 
 ruins which had overwhelmed them, and in pre- 
 paring to carry them to the hospital ; while 
 others were occupied in keeping back the crowd, 
 fastening the doors, and admitting only such as 
 were in some way connected with the premises 
 and their proprietor. All was confusion. On 
 mounting a staircase, and making my way 
 through the rubbish and broken furniture that 
 impeded my course, I entered a small room, the 
 very picture of desolation, tbe walls and furni- 
 ture bearing evident testimony to the force of the 
 tremendous explosion that had occurred. There 
 lay the lifeless body of my poor friend, stretched 
 at full length on the floor ; the face blackened, 
 the limbs broken, and the body mangled. And 
 there lay, also, the motionless and mutilated 
 
184 ois OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 
 
 remains of a young woman. It was a spectacle 
 of the most afflictive kind ; a sight not soon to 
 be forgotten. 
 
 When the bruised and maimed had been con- 
 veyed to the hospital, a few immediate friends, 
 who had consulted together on the subject of 
 making known the melancholy event to the hap- 
 less mother, signified to me their desire that I 
 should become the bearer of the calamitous intel- 
 ligence. I immediately departed on my mourn- 
 ful mission. 
 
 Though mine was far from being a desirable 
 undertaking, yet was I considerably relieved of 
 my solicitude by the remembrance of the meek- 
 mindedness and Christian resignation before 
 manifested by her to whom I was about to 
 impart such heavy tidings. It was, indeed, a 
 sharp trial that she was called on to bear, stroke 
 upon stroke, affliction upon affliction ; and cause 
 enough had she to say, " When my heart is over- 
 whelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher 
 than I." A mother, and a mother only, who 
 had already been painfully bereaved of one son, 
 could properly estimate her grief; still I hoped 
 that her strength would be equal to the trial. 
 
 It might be the better part of a mile to the 
 house where she then was. On my arrival there, 
 she immediately joined me in the room into 
 
ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 185 
 
 which I had been shown. After a few remarks, 
 gradually increasing in seriousness, I reminded 
 her that in a season of extreme trial I had once 
 witnessed, with much comfort, her meek resigna- 
 tion to the Divine will, and that it led me to 
 hope and believe that under every future trial she 
 would look to the same heavenly source of conso- 
 lation, and receive the same merciful support. I 
 then told her how much I regretted to be the 
 bearer of unwelcome tidings. 
 
 With a sharp and eager look, as if she would 
 read my message in my features, and with a 
 mother's heart anticipating evil, she pronounced 
 the Christian name of her son, directly adding 
 the question, " Is he dead ? " As I spoke not, 
 she excitedly said, " Did he ? " but I under- 
 stood her agonizing solicitude, and hastened to 
 relieve it by telling her that it was not his own 
 deed ; that God, in his mercy, had spared her 
 that bitter trial, and that I hoped she would look 
 to him ; as he alone, in her present distress, could 
 supply her with the strength and consolation she 
 required. Without giving me a reply, she hastily 
 quitted the room, followed by me, crossing the 
 hall, and entering another department. 
 
 At the far end of this room were seated several 
 ladies, one of them was the sister of the deceased, 
 and another a young lady to whom he was in a 
 R 2 
 
186 ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 
 
 very short time to have been wedded. The latter 
 was gaily dressed, and wore a gold watch and 
 other ornaments. It was, indeed, with her a 
 moment of agreeable expectancy, for she had sup- 
 posed my knock at the door to be that of her 
 lover. No wonder that so sudden and terrible an 
 announcement as that which was in store for her 
 should be more than she could sustain. 
 
 The poor grief-oppressed mother, unable to 
 endure her inward agony in silence, passed quickly 
 along the room, to the apparently happy party, 
 and before I could repress her speech, told them, 
 with all the energy of excited anguish, that her 
 son was dead. Had a hand-grenade been thrown 
 among those who were seated round the table, 
 hardly could it have produced more consternation 
 and dismay. A wild shriek was uttered, and in 
 a moment every one had left her seat. The sister 
 insisted on going directly to her brother, the 
 mother was equally importunate ; while the poor 
 young lady, springing to her feet, with her reason 
 dethroned, began to dance about the room, sing- 
 ing the while, " Lara, lara, la ! lara, lara, la ! " 
 " Come with me," said she, taking me by the 
 arm, " and let us gather primroses." After this, 
 dragging me to the sofa, she bade me "kneel 
 down with her and pray," and then springing to 
 her feet again she began to dance, accompanying 
 
ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 187 
 
 her movements with her voice, in all the appear- 
 ance of frantic mirth, " Lara, lara, la ! lara, lara, 
 la ! " For some time I was left alone with the 
 three, the mother and daughter making efforts to 
 get out of the house, and the poor distracted one 
 dancing, and singing, and praying, and gathering 
 primroses. 
 
 Such a scene as this is too painful to he dwelt 
 on ; remote as the time is when it occurred, even 
 now its remembrance brings the tears into my 
 eyes. Let me sum up my narrative in few 
 words. Before I quitted the house of mourning, 
 the afflicted mother and sister, surrounded with 
 Christian friends, were comparatively calm ; " per- 
 plexed, but not in despair ; cast down, but not 
 destroyed ;" and she whom the shaft of calamity 
 had so fearfully stricken, was partially relieved by 
 a flood of tears. After years had rolled away, and 
 time had ameliorated the remembrance of the 
 past, she wedded, and I believe happily. 
 
 But what good can we gather, reader, from this 
 narrative of universal sorrow ? Much, I think, if 
 it be rightly considered ; for when we reflect for a 
 moment on our lighter cares and trifling afflic- 
 tions, and compare them with calamities that have 
 fallen on others, overwhelming as the one I have 
 described, it should, as I have already said, red- 
 den our cheeks with shame for our ingratitude, 
 
188 ON OVERWHELMING CALAMITIES. 
 
 excite in us fresh impulses of thankfulness, and 
 add a new string to our harp of praise. When 
 we contrast our merits with our mercies, how 
 mean are the one, and how manifold are the 
 other ; and when we compare our sufferings with 
 our enjoyments, it is to our reproach that a word 
 of repining should ever escape from our lips. 
 Whatever may be, afflicted Christian, the weight 
 of thy trouble, it was not placed upon thee with- 
 out the knowledge of thy heavenly Father ; sub- 
 mit thyself to his almighty will : 
 
 " Humbled beneath his mighty hand, 
 
 Prostrate his providence adore; 
 'T is done! Arise! He bids thee stand, 
 To fail no more." 
 
 Bear thy cross now patiently, and after a while 
 thou shalt wear thy crown triumphantly. Take 
 up thy trial without murmuring, and thou shalt 
 soon take up thy timbrel with rejoicing, in agree- 
 ment with the words of holy writ : " For our light 
 affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for 
 us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
 glory ; while we look not at the things which are 
 seen, but at the things which are not seen : for 
 the things which are seen are temporal ; but the 
 things which are not seen are eternal,' 5 2 Cor. iv. 
 17, 18. 
 
THE SILENT MAN ; 
 
 OR, DIVERSITY IN CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 
 
 THERE is, reader, great diversity in the Chris- 
 tian character. Reading the same blessed volume 
 for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction 
 in righteousness -, and looking to the same mer- 
 ciful Redeemer as the truth, the light, the life, 
 and the only way of salvation, Christians yet 
 manifest their natural dispositions in holy things. 
 One appears to be continually on the mount, while 
 another roams ever in the wilderness. There is 
 in some a buoyancy and joyousness of spirit that 
 leads them to delight in the goodness of the Lord ; 
 and in others a characteristic thoughtfulness that 
 disposes them to dwell on the more shadowy dis- 
 pensations of the Almighty. Thus while some 
 are drawn by his mercy, some also are driven by 
 his judgments : 
 
 Lord, keep my wandering heart in shade and shine, 
 Or draw or drive me, so that I am thine. 
 
 A short time ago, while sitting amidst a friendly 
 meeting of Christians, I was much struck by the 
 oneness, the unity, of their faith, and the great 
 diversity of their gifts and dispositions. One was 
 
190 THE SILENT MAN. 
 
 instant in praise, another fervent in prayer, a third 
 abounding in the promises, while a fourth was 
 mighty in the prophecies ; and thus each seemed 
 to contribute, in his own way, to the general sum 
 of Christian edification. 
 
 But while the hours of the evening were occu- 
 pied in Christian converse, and the gathered party 
 were unconsciously manifesting their gifts, their 
 graces, and peculiar dispositions, there was a silent 
 one among them, who appeared to be almost sepa- 
 rated from those around him. When a favourable 
 opportunity occurred, I drew near, and, seating 
 myself beside him, began cautiously to hazard a 
 few remarks. Much to my surprise, he soon took 
 the lead in our conversation. 
 
 Something that had fallen from my lips, I sup- 
 pose, harmonized with his spirit and retired dis- 
 position. I had touched a chord in his heart that 
 responded freely to me. I had accidentally broken 
 up the deep fountain of his feelings, so that on 
 my gently expressing my regret that he did not 
 give us the benefit of his observations, he turned 
 to me at once without reserve. " I will tell you, 
 sir, how it is," said he, pulling his spectacles from 
 his brows, laying them on the book before him, 
 and looking at me earnestly and almost solemnly 
 as he spoke, "There are some who, by the so- 
 lemnity of their thoughts, and the depth of their 
 
THE SILENT MAN. 191 
 
 emotions, on account of their trials, are in a 
 great degree cut off from communion with those 
 around them. Not that they are indisposed to 
 hold converse with their kind, but that there are 
 so few who can understand them. They long for 
 kindred hearts and kindred experiences, but they 
 cannot find them ; and thus in the midst of 
 society they are alone. Go to the seashore, and 
 where you find one meditating in the shadowy 
 cavern, where the howling of the winds and the 
 hoarse thunder of the waves resound, you will see 
 twenty picking up shells and pebbles on the 
 sunny sand." 
 
 The truthfulness and earnestness in his counte- 
 nance as he spoke thus, convinced me that he him- 
 self was the very character he described, and the 
 observations which afterwards fell from his lips 
 only deepened this conviction on my mind. 
 
 " When the people of God were in captivity," 
 said he, " even the remembrance of the favoured 
 city rather afflicted than comforted them, so that 
 they hung their harps on the willows, and sat 
 down by the rivers of Babylon and wept. It 
 sometimes pleases our heavenly Father rather to 
 impress us with his judgments, than to melt us 
 with his mercies. He runs upon us like a giant, 
 and breaks us in pieces ; nevertheless, ' he know- 
 eth our frame ; he remembereth that we are dust.' 
 
192 THE SILENT MAN. 
 
 ' Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom 
 and knowledge of God ! how unsearchable are his 
 judgments, and his ways past finding out!' 
 'With him is wisdom and strength, he hath 
 counsel and understanding. Behold, he breaketh 
 down, and it cannot be built again : he shutteth 
 up a man, and there can be no opening.' A 
 pleasant thing it is to be at liberty, to go forward 
 with our fellow-pilgrims ; but sometimes our bur- 
 den is too heavy, and we must be content to see 
 them go onward before us." 
 
 While he spoke thus I could not but consider 
 him as a wrestler with affliction, a struggler in 
 deep waters, and I doubted not, silent as he had 
 been, that he was a man of faith and prayer ; one 
 who in the urgency of his spirit would say, " I 
 will not let thee go, except thou bless me." But 
 he went on thus, " I sometimes think, sir, that it 
 is safer to be sorrowing for sin than to be exult- 
 ing in the grace of the Redeemer. We all have 
 our weaknesses and our temptations, and this may 
 be one of mine. While the language of my 
 friends around me is, ' O come, let us sing unto 
 the Lord ; let us heartily rejoice in the strength 
 of our salvation ;' mine often is, ' My soul is full 
 of troubles : and my life draweth nigh unto the 
 grave. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in 
 darkness, in the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard 
 
THE SILENT MAN. 193 
 
 upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy 
 waves.' ' Thou hast put away mine acquaintance 
 far from me : I am shut up, and I cannot come 
 forth.' This, also, may be another of my infirmi- 
 ties ; hut I know that my sighs and my tears, my 
 doubts and my fears, will be forgiven me, while I 
 hold fast to my Lord, for ' he is faithful that 
 promised.' " 
 
 My friend was wrong in one point his sorrow 
 for sin ought to have led him to exult in the grace 
 of the Redeemer more fully ; yet I felt much 
 drawn in my aifections towards this silent one, this 
 solitary pilgrim to Zion, regarding him, as I did, 
 as a heavy-laden brother ; and I could not but 
 repeat to myself these consoling passages of God's 
 holy word, " They that sow in tears shall reap in 
 joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing 
 precious seed, shall doubtless come again with 
 rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him," Psa. 
 cxxvi. 5, 6. 
 
ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 
 
 How influential are many scenes that are pre- 
 sented to our sight ! Some fill the heart with 
 joy, some tranquillize the spirit, some deeply im- 
 press the mind, some afflict us with suspense, and 
 some shake our souls with apprehension. As our 
 dispositions are different, and as we walk in varied 
 pathways through the world, so are we attracted 
 by different scenes, and variously impressed by 
 them. What one seeks another avoids, what one 
 commends another condemns, and what one en- 
 joys another endures. Yet still, amid all this 
 variety, there are many things in which we all 
 agree ; and as sugar is sweet and vinegar is sour 
 to every palate, so do some impressive sights 
 afford pleasure or pain to every spectator. Earth, 
 sea, and skies, under varied aspects, present to us 
 a never-ending series of sights, more or less 
 attractive or impressive ; and day and night, sun- 
 shine and shade, fair and stormy weather, im- 
 measurably multiply the appearances these sights 
 assume. Then, again, the earth affords a con- 
 tinual variety by its population j crowds, proces- 
 
ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 195 
 
 sions, and gatherings on different occasions, and 
 for different purposes, add to the impressive spec- 
 tacles on which we gaze. No degree of thankful- 
 ness to the Father of mercies can be dispropor- 
 tionably great for the gift of sight. He that has 
 seeing eyes in his head, should have a grateful 
 heart in his bosom. 
 
 An awful and impressive sight is that of a fire 
 at murky midnight, in London. The alarm is 
 given ! The cry of "Fire !" prevails ; hasty feet 
 are hurrying through the streets ; the rumbling of 
 heavy, fast-revolving wheels approaches, with the 
 clattering of iron-shod hoofs. Sash windows are 
 thrown up, casements are pushed open, figures in 
 their night-clothes are visible by the glare of the 
 distant conflagration. The fire gains head, black 
 and red smoke rises like a beacon in the air, and 
 now are seen the tall ladder-like fire-escapes. The 
 assembled crowd, the water rushing from the 
 opened fire-plugs, the flooded streets, the red- 
 painted engines, with their long hose and brazen 
 pipes, the helmeted arid be-booted firemen, the 
 ascending streams, the flaring rafters, the falling 
 roof, the crashing timbers, and the roaring, rush- 
 ing, all-devouring flames lighting up the neigh- 
 bourhood around, and mirroring themselves in the 
 very clouds of heaven with what different emo- 
 tions is this arresting spectacle regarded by the 
 
196 ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 
 
 uninterested spectator, and by the poor houseless, 
 homeless outcasts who have hurriedly escaped 
 from their burning dwelling ! There are three, 
 nay, four duties with regard to fire, incumbent on 
 us all. To be conscientiously careful in prevent- 
 ing it ; to be prompt and courageous in rendering 
 assistance where it occurs ; to be kind, according 
 to our means, to those who have suffered by it ; 
 and to be very grateful to God for our own pre- 
 servation. 
 
 Who that has witnessed a storm at sea, can 
 ever hope to lose the remembrance of the rushing 
 tempest and the roaring deep ? It is impressive 
 enough when it is coming ; when all is apprehen- 
 sion, and suspense, and gloom. When the sha- 
 dowy billows, fringed with white foam, begin to 
 heave sullenly, and the frowning sky grows darker 
 every hour. But what is this to the scene when 
 the outstretched wings of the wild hurricane are 
 sweeping the face of the inky waters? Some 
 sights may be overwrought in description, but 
 here imagination feels her insufficiency. What 
 fiery flashes dart athwart the gloom ! What fear- 
 ful thunder rolls its heavy burdens on the winds ! 
 How the raging deep yawns to suck down the 
 disabled ship ! The rending of sails, the crashing 
 of falling masts, the sharp whistling of the gusty 
 wind, and the roar of the angry ocean, bulging 
 

 ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 197 
 
 in the bows of the rock-stricken vessel, paralyze 
 the timid and appal the hrave. Many are the 
 shrieking women, the raving passengers, and the 
 drunken sailors ; hut how few are those who are 
 calmly and confidingly looking up to Him who 
 can alone hush the stormy waves ! If such the 
 terrors of the deep, what must be the shipwreck 
 of the soul ? the dying hour of one without hope ? 
 To thy Rock, reader ! to thy Refuge ! To Him 
 who is mighty to redeem and to save ! 
 
 When a scene of an impressive kind is fre- 
 quently witnessed, its influence is partially de- 
 stroyed. This is strikingly the case with the six 
 o'clock sight at the London General Post-office. 
 How many who have once gazed on it with intense 
 excitement, have afterwards altogether disregarded 
 it ! As every letter and newspaper has an extra 
 charge to pay after six o'clock, so, as that hour 
 approaches, there is a rush made on the part 01 
 those who wish to be in time. To witness this 
 rush, a throng is always assembled. The nearer 
 the time, the greater is the hurry and scuffle. It 
 is now almost six, and see how the crowd thickens ! 
 Gentlemen, men-servants, and maid-servants hurry 
 up the steps ; porters, young men from city offices, 
 and banker's clerks run hastily across the hall ; 
 boys from the newspaper-offices, with loaded bags 
 on their backs, strive with all their strength to be 
 s 2 
 
198 ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 
 
 in time, and hundreds of all classes come pouring 
 in at both entrances. Now comes the crisis ! The 
 clock has begun to strike, yet scores are rushing 
 on. What a confusion ! There ! the letter-boxes 
 are closed, and the shutter of the newspaper win- 
 dow has fallen on the middle of a well-filled bag : 
 the man inside tries to push it out, the boy out- 
 side tries to push it in : the latter succeeds, and 
 the crowd set up a cheering shout. Loud laughter 
 is ringing from the walls, and the multitude are 
 quickly dispersing. At eight o'clock the mails 
 will depart, to convey to all parts their budgets 
 of business, information, and mingled joy and 
 sorrow. 
 
 Some scenes affect us by their beauty, some by 
 their magnificence, some by their extent, and some 
 by their extreme loneliness and desolation. Many 
 of the Scottish lochs are of the latter character, 
 and Loch Awe partakes of them all. Beautiful 
 in the extreme, thirty miles in extent, and influ- 
 entially lovely, it is one of the most magnificent 
 of the Highland fresh- water lakes . On the promon- 
 tory at the east end stands the picturesque ruins 
 of Kilchurn Castle, and on the small island Fraoch 
 Elan, another desolated fortress is seen ; while in 
 all directions arise mountains high and steep, and 
 finely wooded, where the roe and the red deer run 
 at liberty. Old Bencruachan lifts his giant head 
 
ON IMPKESSIVE SIGHTS. 190 
 
 to the north-east. Fair to see, after rainy weather, 
 is the cataract in gloomy Glensray, and hardly less 
 attractive are the precipitous streams, which, fall- 
 ing from the woody eminences, lose themselves in 
 the lake helow. But bewilderingly attractive as 
 Loch Awe is, its extreme loneliness oppresses the 
 spirit of the spectator. He feels banished from 
 his fellow-men, and yearns for the society of his 
 kind. Man is a social being, and he has in his 
 heart affections which mountains, and woods, and 
 waters, of themselves, can never satisfy. 
 
 Nor yet among the impressive sights that affect 
 us, should that of a sudden flood be forgotten. 
 There are many rivers that, in the rainy season, 
 overflow their banks, spread over the meadows, 
 inundate the cottages, and carry away the produce 
 of the ground. The devastating flood comes rush- 
 ing forth from its customary bed, scattering ruin 
 and destruction around, like the terrible arm of a 
 destroying angel. Down comes the descending 
 deluge from the darkened heavens, increasing the 
 roaring waters. The stream deepens, and the 
 current increases in strength. Hedges are broken 
 down, haystacks are carried off, pigsties are swept 
 away, and sheep are borne along by the stream. 
 Boats are plying to and fro among the inundated 
 cottages, to save the lives of their alarmed in- 
 mates, and the peaceful village is a scene of con- 
 
200 ON IMPEESS1VE SIGHTS. 
 
 fusion and terror. Both fire and water are fearful 
 scourges when they prevail ; and though the 
 former is the more terrible, the latter is oftentimes 
 more extensively ruinous. Reader, dost thou pray 
 that fire and water may not have dominion over 
 thee, and dost thou praise thy heavenly Father for 
 his merciful protection ? 
 
 Who has been at the wedding of manly grace 
 and feminine beauty, the union of two youthful, 
 virtuous, and happy hearts, without regarding it 
 as one of the impressive sights of life ? The fair 
 bride, the joyous bridegroom, the happy attend- 
 ants, the dresses, the carriages, the drivers in their 
 white favours, the cracking of whips, the clatter*- 
 ing of wheels, the smile on the face of the bride- 
 groom, and the tear on that of the bride ; the en- 
 trance of the church, the impressive ceremony, the 
 ringing bells, the rapid return, the tasteful and 
 abundant breakfast, the sparkling wines, orna- 
 mented bridecake, and lovely greenhouse flowers ; 
 the solemn prayer, the travelling dresses, and em- 
 braces- and kind adieus. Oh ! for the time, it is a 
 world of sunshine, and bridecake, and white kid 
 gloves, and embossed cards, and bouquets of 
 flowers. Happiness, like a rosebud gemmed with 
 dew, is embellished, rather than disfigured, by a 
 few tears ; and Joy sees his own form mirrored in 
 the faces of all around. The wedded pair are 
 
ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 201 
 
 gone ; will their happiness endure ? Will their 
 affection fly off in the crucible of trial, or will it 
 come forth as gold? Ask no questions now. 
 Care must come, will come ; let it not come to- 
 day. Beat on, ye happy hearts, for it is your 
 wedding-day. Angels of mercy, commissioned 
 from above, wait on your future years ! 
 
 Of all the scenes presented to our gaze, there is, 
 perhaps, none more gloriously sublime or arrest- 
 ingly impressive than that of the setting sun. Far 
 and wide are spread the kindling clouds with hues 
 of dazzling light, and the sparkling intensity of 
 the topaz, the ruby, and the diamond are outdone 
 by the dread magnificence of the skies. But what 
 are the kindling clouds ? These are but the skirts 
 of the garment of the king of day ! As much as 
 they excel the common creation in brightness, he 
 transcends them in magnificence and glory. If 
 for a moment he draws aside the robes that en- 
 shroud him, earthly monarchs are blinded by his 
 unbearable beams. His presence is light and life, 
 and his absence casts a shadow upon the world. 
 The setting sun is an impressive; rather than a 
 joyous spectacle, for it tells us of a dying day, and 
 disposes us to think on our own dissolution. But 
 it proclaims also, as with an angel's trumpet, the 
 almighty power and immeasurable goodness of our 
 
202 ON IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS. 
 
 great Creator ; nor can we regard it as an ambas- 
 sador of the Most High, without a more exalted 
 conception of the King of kings, and a livelier 
 thankfulness to the Lord of lords. 
 
 A concentrated scene, an impressive sight, is 
 that of a funeral ; when the faded form of one 
 dear to us is committed to the ground " earth 
 to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." We 
 have been made familiar with sorrow and sighing, 
 sickness and death. The plumed hearse, the 
 funeral pall, and the sad procession have flung an 
 added shadow on our hearts ; and now we part with 
 the last remains of our departed companion : " I 
 am the resurrection and the life ; he that believeth 
 in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live : 
 and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall 
 never die," are cheering words, and much do we 
 require them. At one moment we can rejoice, but 
 in the next we needs must mourn. We hear the 
 solemn words pronounced over the departed one, 
 and feel their truth, that man " cometh up and is 
 cut down like a flower ;" and we respond heartily 
 to the prayer, " O Lord God most holy, O Lord 
 most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, deliver 
 us not into the bitter pains of eternal death." By 
 turns we are elated and depressed, for Affection 
 and Sorrow will look into the grave, though Faith 
 will gaze beyond the starry skies. 
 
ON IMPEESSIVE SIGHTS. 203 
 
 Oh that every impressive sight that met our 
 eyes duly impressed our hearts, filling us with 
 more affection for mankind, and more love and 
 zeal for the Redeemer's glory ! 
 
ON PEDIGREE. 
 
 Not all the blood of the Plantagenets 
 Can heal the leprosy of sin and shame. 
 
 THERE are, reader, two opinions held respect- 
 ing pedigree, that I can by no means entertain. 
 The one is, that it is a personal credit to a man 
 to be descended from an ancient and noble family, 
 irrespective of his character being good or bad. 
 So far from this being the fact, I rather lean to 
 the belief that, to be descended from a noble 
 family, is a just reproach to every ignoble and 
 unworthy member of it rendering, as it does, 
 his unworthiness the greater. Not even the far- 
 famed herald, Sylvester Petra-Sancta himself, with 
 the kings-at-arms Garter, Clarencieux, and Nor- 
 roy, bedizened with or and argent, azure, gules, 
 sable, vert, purpure, tenne, and sanguine, with all 
 the shields, crests, supporters, and mottos they 
 could muster, could convince me that a bad man 
 can be really ennobled by a noble descent. 
 
 The other opinion to which I demur is, that 
 for any one to be fond of his pedigree, and care- 
 fully to preserve an account of it, is, of necessity, 
 
ON PEDIGREE. 205 
 
 a proof of pride and infirmity. So much am I 
 opposed to this conviction, that I consider it ob- 
 ligatory on every one having honorable ancestors, 
 to cherish their memory and to emulate their 
 virtues. 
 
 Pedigree is a highly interesting subject, and 
 may be made a very profitable one. The know- 
 ledge that we are all descended from Adam, 
 should be sufficient to restrain us from foolish 
 ostentation ; and, besides this, it should be re- 
 membered that 
 
 " They who on virtuous ancestors enlarge, 
 Produce their debt instead of their discharge." 
 
 The scrupulous exactness with which the Jews 
 preserved their pedigrees, and the evidences of 
 genealogy with which the Holy Scriptures abound, 
 are perhaps the origin of our more modern prac- 
 tice of collecting and preserving the names of 
 individuals of whom a family has consisted. 
 Monarch s, nobles, and those of high degree, are 
 most attached to genealogy. The following epi- 
 gram may reprove such as are unreasonably and 
 unseasonably anxious about their pedigree : 
 
 Thoughtless Dan, out at elbows, felt countless alarms, 
 In obtaining his family old coat-of arms. 
 11 Advise me," said he, " for I'm not worth a groat" 
 " I advise thee," quoth Will, " to get arms to thy coat.'* 
 
 Hardly do I know which of the two is the 
 
 T 
 
206 ON PEDIGREE. 
 
 more unwise he who, having noble and virtuous 
 ancestors, neglects to make them models for his 
 imitation or he who, in rags, occupies himself in 
 trying to prove the greatness of his descent, in- 
 stead of endeavouring to relieve the poverty of his 
 position. Like most other things in the world, a 
 fondness for pedigree may be used or abused. It 
 may strengthen virtuous propensities, or foster 
 the pride and vanity of the human heart. 
 
 I have been led to the consideration of this 
 subject by the following lines from a gifted pen, 
 which happened to come within my notice. They 
 were, I believe, an introduction to some poetic 
 pieces on pedigree, and were addressed to a zea- 
 lous and indefatigable young clergyman, of high 
 and ancient family, who, passing by fair prospects 
 of worldly prosperity, by conscientious choice de- 
 voted himself to the work of the ministry. The 
 two great pedigrees, to one or other of which we 
 all may be said to belong, in these lines are clearly 
 set forth : 
 
 " Take, reverend sir, my little Fancy's dream, 
 Thus harmless, sporting round the heart's esteem, 
 For one whose choice his youth and strength has given 
 To guide his fellow-pilgrims on to heaven. 
 To tell them not of earthly pedigree, 
 Of wealth, and power, and blazon'd heraldry. 
 Oh, no ! to teach them that the lowly heart 
 In all that's truly great alone has part. 
 To show them how, beyond each bauble's blaze 
 With bright-eyed faith to fix their stedlast gaze 
 
ON PEBIGKEE. 207 
 
 On the dread glories of that awful day, 
 
 When earth and all her crowns shall fade away. 
 
 When all mankind, array'd on either hand, 
 
 On two great pedigrees alone shall stand ; 
 
 While by the mighty Judge their race is told, 
 
 The child of God, or of the serpent old." 
 
 This unique mode of disposing of the question 
 this simple division of genealogy into two great 
 pedigrees, will hardly prove so acceptable to the 
 high and mighty as to the Christian world, inas- 
 much as the word of God declares " Not many 
 wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not 
 many noble are called : but God hath chosen the 
 foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; 
 and God hath chosen the weak things of the 
 world to confound the things which are mighty, 
 . . . that no flesh should glory in his presence. 
 He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord," 
 1 Cor. i. 26 31 ; but I am not aware that this 
 is a valid objection to the decision. It is as much 
 the duty and the advantage of the high as of the 
 low to follow after the things which belong to 
 their peace, for " godliness is profitable unto all 
 things, having promise of the life that now is, 
 and of that which is to come," 1 Tim. iv. 8. 
 
 However fond any one may be of pedigree, a 
 glance at the escutcheons of our nobility must 
 convince him that some of their supporters, crests, 
 and mottos must, when devised, have been much 
 
208 ON PEDIGREE. 
 
 more calculated to pamper pride and engender 
 strife than to inculcate humility and promote 
 peace. It must, however, be admitted that words 
 acquire force or lose their power according to the 
 sphere of their operation, and that a motto that 
 serves as an influential war-cry, may be impotent 
 and meaningless in a season of tranquillity. 
 
 Among the more hostile and ostentatious mot- 
 tos, may be mentioned the following : " Frangas, 
 non flectes ;" you may break, you shall not bend 
 me. " Je maintiendrai ;" I will maintain. " Me- 
 tuenda corolla draconis ;" fear the dragon's crest. 
 Hide through. Strike. Fight. " Non revertar 
 inultus ;" I will not return unrevenged. "Am 
 numerantur avorum ;" I follow a long train of 
 ancestors. " Fortem posce animum ;" ask for a 
 brave soul. " Sequor, nee inferior ;" I follow, 
 but I am not inferior. But think not, ye pedi- 
 gree-loving sons of greatness, that bravery and 
 high-mindedness will excuse the want of courtesy 
 and kind-heartedness : 
 
 Think not escutcheons, and a marble stone, 
 Though fairly form'd and fashion'd, can atone 
 For want of kindly deeds, or bid survive 
 A fame that ye deserve not when alive. 
 When moulders in the dust the mortal frame, 
 The noble and ignoble are the same. 
 If ye among the sons of man would blend 
 Your fame and glory, learn to be their friend; 
 Do good to man, and through each fleeting hour 
 Acknowledge Him who gave you all your power: 
 
ON PEDIGREE. 209 
 
 Do this, ye proud, lest ye should seek in vain 
 That heaven the lowly only can attain. 
 
 A glorious motto, if taken in a right sense, is 
 the following " In omnia paratus ;" prepared 
 for everything. What ! for everything ? Then 
 may you well be regarded as strong men ; hut let 
 me look a little more narrowly to your coat-of- 
 arms. I see that its supporters are a man in 
 armour, holding a spear, and a rampant stag with 
 branching antlers on his head ; and both look so 
 wondrously warlike, that they suggest the thought 
 that the motto merely means, prepared for all 
 things in the shape of an attack ; or, in other 
 words, prepared for war. But there are other 
 things to be prepared for besides war, and there- 
 fore old Humphrey ventures to ask you, Is your 
 armour trial proof? Sickness proof? Death-bed 
 proof? Judgment proof? Nay, is it proof against 
 eternal fire ? for if not, then have you as much 
 reason as the meanest and weakest of your depen- 
 dants to put on another suit of armour, even the 
 breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of 
 salvation, and to arm yourselves with the shield 
 of faith and the sword of the Spirit. Do this, 
 and your motto will be strictly in keeping with 
 your position, for you will be, indeed, " prepared 
 for everything." 
 
 The following mottos are excellent of their kind : 
 T 2 
 
210 ON PEDIGREE. 
 
 * f Aperto vivere voto ;" to live without guile. 
 " Bear and forbear." " Cassis tutlssima virtus;" 
 virtue is the safest helmet. " Finem respice /' 
 regard the end. "Nil desperandum ;" never 
 despair : and " Semper fidelis ;" always faithful. 
 These mottos are capable of universal application. 
 A bitter or a boastful motto is ill suited to one 
 whose life is " even a vapour, that appeareth for 
 a little time, and then vanisheth away," Jas. iv. 
 14. Of how little importance will the honours of 
 this world be to us when we are in another ! 
 
 How gladly would the illustrious dead that lie 
 Enshrined in pomp, and pride, and pageantry, 
 Could they look back and mark with thoughtful brow 
 The littleness of all things here below, 
 
 How gladly would they, while with honest shame 
 They read the marble that extols their name, 
 Erase the record of the lying stone, 
 And write, " My glory is the Lord alone ! " 
 
 But there are not wanting among the mottos on 
 the escutcheons of our nobility those of a decidedly 
 religious kind, which in prosperity and adver- 
 sity, joy and sorrow, life and death, may be turned 
 to good account. Such are the few that follow : 
 <( Benigno numine;" by God's blessing. "Do- 
 minus providebit ;" God will provide. "In te, 
 Domine, speravi ;" in thee, O Lord, have I put 
 my trust. "Ex fide fortis ;" strong through 
 faith. " Spes meet Chris fits ;" Christ is my hope. 
 
ON PEDIGKEE. 211 
 
 He who can look back to a long line of ancestors, 
 whose lives have been in agreement with these 
 mottos, may well put a high value on his pedi- 
 gree. " Nobilitatis virtus non stemma character ; 
 virtue, not pedigree, is the mark of nobility 
 is, I believe, the motto of the earl of Grosvenor 
 (now marquis of Westminster), nor would it be an 
 easy thing to gainsay its truth. Perhaps the 
 more we sift the subject, the more we shall be dis- 
 posed to admit that a fondness for pedigree may 
 be a good or an evil, according to the use to which 
 it is applied, and that, according to a correct 
 Christian standard, pedigree includes two classes 
 only the children of light, and the children of 
 darkness : 
 
 Let others fondly seek the vain reward, 
 
 The fleeting phantom of this world's regard; 
 
 Be theirs at every hazard to be great, 
 
 To live in splendour, and to rot in state ; 
 
 But, Christian, thou with nobler aims must rise ! 
 
 This world thy prison-house, thy home the skies. 
 
 Leave, then, the proud to grasp the rod of power, 
 
 The glittering baubles of an earthly hour ; 
 
 To bid the prostrate throng in homage bow, 
 
 And place a diadem upon their brow : 
 
 Thy crown with brighter gems than theirs shaJ arine; 
 
 Earth is their kingdom, heaven above js thine. 
 
ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 
 
 SOMETIMES the aged breast is visited with 
 sunny gleams and joyous emotions that recall the 
 remembrance of youth. The heart glows and the 
 fancy puts forth its springtide leaves of freshness 
 and verdure. This remark is a kind of counter- 
 part of my present sensations. Let me, then, be 
 indulged in the free expression of my thoughts, 
 even though I dip my pen in poesy a little more 
 frequently and freely than is my wont. In my 
 sunny musings I usually turn to the country. 
 
 To the Christian lover of nature, the beauteous 
 earth and the expanded heavens present a mighty 
 temple, filled with the glory of the Lord : 
 
 " A vast cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 
 
 Whose quenchless lamp the sun and moon supply; 
 Its choir the winds and waves ; its organ thunder; 
 Its mighty dome the wide extended sky." 
 
 Few have revelled more freely in country scenes 
 with more lively joy and thankfulness than 
 myself; whatever may have been the hour of the 
 day, or the season of the year. Some of these 
 scenes return upon me now : 
 
ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 213 
 
 Oh 1 have seen the red deer run 
 In fair Glentilt, what time the sun 
 Has flung upon the fairy ground 
 A sweet and mellow radiance round : 
 And climb'd the heights of Ben y Gloe; 
 And heard the eagle scream below ; 
 And mark'd, mid summer's burning view, 
 The snowy plaid of Ben Mac Dhu. 
 But neither glen, nor fairy ground 
 Nor yet the red deer's lithesome bound ; 
 Nor Ben y Gloe, with healthy breast ; 
 Nor Ben Mac Dhu's more lofty crest ; 
 Nor eagle, wth his pinion strong, 
 And rapid flight, demand my song. 
 
 Some of my readers may remember a striking 
 sunset described by me ; and as it will furnish a 
 kind of contrast with the scene that will follow it, 
 I shall make no apology for again referring to it. 
 
 The setting sun, gorgeous in glory, was mir- 
 rored in a glassy lake, partly surrounded with 
 peaked mountains. The western end of the lake 
 having no visible boundary, seemed to mingle with 
 the skies. The glittering heavens above were 
 brightly reflected, and the sun that was setting- 
 was confronted with the sun that was rising. 
 There they were, like two proud conquerors in 
 their triumphal cars, glorious in majesty and 
 might, hastening to wage war one with another. 
 It was hard to say which was the more gorgeous in 
 apparel, for each was clad in robes of living light, 
 and glowing yellow, and purple, and crimson : 
 
214 ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 
 
 the one above rode on a dark cloud, and the one 
 beneath had a dark cloud for his canopy. As the 
 one, flashing with intolerable brightness, de- 
 scended, the other, with equal radiance, advanced 
 to meet him, mocking his pomp and splendour, 
 and giving him hue for hue, light for light, gloom 
 for gloom, and glare for glare. And now they 
 were near each other, and the mighty collision 
 was at hand ; but no hostile shock was visible, no 
 contending crash of thunder broke on the ear. 
 When they met on the confines of the skies, each 
 entering his dark cloud, the glowing effulgency, 
 the living light, the glittering hues of yellow, 
 purple, and crimson were silently withdrawn, and 
 the ethereal pageantry passed away, leaving me a 
 grateful reveller, bewildered with the spectacle on 
 which I had been privileged to gaze. 
 
 Go with me now in my sunny musings to the 
 river's side, even to the high bank, where the 
 spreading oak, gorgeous in its autumnal foliage, 
 is mirrored in the clear and placid waters. A 
 sudden gust of wind has smitten the laden boughs, 
 and a fall of leaves, lit up by the sunbeam, is 
 seen descending in a golden shower. But look 
 below, for there a corresponding flight of ruddy 
 foliage is hastening upwards. The descending 
 leaves approach ; they meet, and fancy, regarding 
 
ON SONNY MUSINGS. 215 
 
 them as mutual mends, already sees them toge- 
 ther on the surface of the water, locked in each 
 others' arms. 
 
 It may be that such a scene as this, striking 
 and beautiful, may be familiar to you ; at all 
 events, you will not object to my dwelling upon it 
 and applying it, as best I may, to such occur- 
 rences as present themselves to my mind. 
 
 In the days of my youth I have indulged in 
 dreams of hostile glory ; for as yet I had not 
 learned to look on war in the hateful light in 
 which I now regard it. 
 
 In the days of my boyhood I had a schoolfel- 
 low that I loved, and we were knit together as 
 though we had but one heart between us. In 
 after years our friendship was unbroken. He 
 went abroad, and I mourned his absence ; for at 
 that time grim-visaged war was stalking about 
 the world, and my friend was cast into the prison- 
 house of an enemy. After a season, he succeeded 
 in making his escape, and our meeting was like 
 that of the golden leaves in the stream, for our 
 eyes brightened, and heart sprang to heart, and 
 soul to soul. 
 
 If you have ever seen the arrival of an emigrant 
 ship in a foreign land, where beating bosoms were 
 awaiting her approach ; or a homeward-bound 
 Indiaman come into a British port, while the 
 
216 ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 
 
 throng on the deck, and the throng on the pier, 
 with eyes of intensity regarded each other ; if you 
 have witnessed the eager haste with which, when 
 the landing has taken place, they have " cut short 
 all intermission," and hurried into each others' 
 arms, you will admit that the golden leaves are no 
 unapt illustration of the scene. 
 
 That must needs have been a touching meeting 
 set forth in the parable of the poor prodigal. It 
 matters but little whether we look at the son or 
 the father, for in either we see enough to melt 
 our hearts with sympathy. True it is that the 
 young man has sadly sinned, but then he has 
 also sadly sorrowed, and is now, in the very spirit 
 of repentance, returning home, to take on himself, 
 if such a favour may be granted him, the part of 
 a hired servant. You may see his ragged rai- 
 ment, and his pale, careworn face ; but you can- 
 not see the agony of his heart, and the depth of 
 his humiliation. But the quick eye of an affec- 
 tionate father has descried at a distance his re- 
 pentant child. He hastens towards him ; and 
 here again the union of the golden leaves occurs 
 to me, for the offending child and the forgiving 
 parent are soon clasped in each others arms. 
 
 And now I see, in my sunny musings, the 
 meeting of joyous hearts. The human leaves, in 
 many a golden flight, are fluttering. Schoolboys 
 
ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 21? 
 
 and girls, half wild with hope and holiday and 
 joy, are hastening home, where smiling welcome 
 awaits them. Bridal parties are gathering ; and 
 family groups of fond parents and affectionate 
 children ; loving friends and friendly neighbours, 
 with beaming faces and kindling bosoms, are 
 freely mingling. How vividly the past comes 
 upon me ! Again I see the river and the spread- 
 ing tree, and again the sun-lit flight of leaves 
 spring forward to lose themselves in one another, 
 on the surface of the crystal waters. 
 
 But are there no springings towards each other, 
 no minglings of renewed hearts in seasons of 
 prayer and praise ? Oh, yes ! for never are 
 human beings more closely drawn together than 
 when engaged in holy exercises. " Did not our 
 heart burn within us," said the two disciples, 
 " while he talked with us by the way, and while 
 he opened to us the Scriptures ? " Luke xxiv. 32. 
 What mysterious links of hallowed love bind to- 
 gether the followers of the Redeemer, when their 
 souls magnify the Lord, and their spirits rejoice 
 in God their Saviour ! Luke i. 46, 47 ; and what 
 communion of spirit takes place amid a throng of 
 worshippers, when heart and tongue pour forth 
 the strain of thanksgiving, 
 
218 ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 
 
 " All people that on earth do dwell, 
 
 Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice; 
 Him serve with fear, his praise forth tell, 
 Come ye before him and rejoice." 
 
 Do you never, Christian reader, look up to the 
 bright blue sky, and think of the brighter world 
 beyond? And do you never fancy the forms of 
 Christian friends now habitants of glory, as ready 
 to welcome you to their blissful abode ? Let me 
 take an upward glance for you : 
 
 I see within a temple hright 
 
 The shining ones appear, 
 In sparkling robes of living light, 
 
 And crystal raiment clear: 
 And some upon the threshhold stand, 
 With looks of love and outstretch'd hand. 
 
 They seem as when on earth awhile, 
 
 Except their shining dress; 
 And then they wear a beaming smile 
 
 Of heavenly tenderness : 
 Their love-lit eyes are plain to view, 
 Their eager hands are stretch'd to you. 
 
 As yet you may not wing your way 
 
 To that eternal zone; 
 Your earthly joys are not complete. 
 
 Nor yet your duties done. 
 Perform your Saviour's kind commands, 
 Be patient in his holy hands. 
 
 And wait awhile, and you shall soar 
 
 To that celestial crowd, 
 With songs in your Redeemer's praise, 
 
 And hallelujahs loud 
 And meet where sorrow never grieves, 
 E'en like those flying golden leaves. 
 
 It may be that in my sunny musings I have 
 
ON SUNNY MUSINGS. 219 
 
 awakened in you some kindred emotions, and that 
 after gazing on my fall of sun-lit leaves, you will 
 be indulging in some golden showers of your own : 
 the subject placed before you may be variously 
 applied, and is equally suited to prose and poetry. 
 Whether I have succeeded or failed in my at- 
 tempts to impart pleasure and profit, you will 
 agree with me that we should not altogether re- 
 gard the fall of a leaf with unconcern, when we 
 remember that we are indebted for our theory and 
 system of the universe to the fall of an acorn. 
 
ON THE WONDERS OF OUR 
 OWN TIMES. 
 
 A WORD or two on a few of the many wonders 
 of our own times, for I cannot but think that 
 they Call forth too little of our regard. We can- 
 not always keep up an excited emotion of asto- 
 nishment or delight, but we may indulge in pro- 
 fitable reflection. 
 
 There is nothing around us, however extraordi- 
 nary, that does not soon become comparatively 
 common place. The very sun, moon, and stars, 
 hung up in the heavens and sustained there with- 
 out visible agency for thousands of years, awake 
 not our wonder. When we take up the pen, it is 
 true, we sometimes write about them very elo- 
 quently; and when called on to make speeches 
 before our fellow-men, we go on sky-scraping, as 
 though we were wondrously affected by these 
 things ; but who among us is ever found really 
 gazing up at midday, or midnight, at the clear 
 blue arch of heaven, with an admiring eye, and 
 loving and grateful heart, constrained, whether he 
 will or not, to exclaim, " When I consider thy 
 
ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 221 
 
 heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and 
 the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is 
 man, that thou art mindful of him ? and the son 
 of man, that thou visitest him? O Lord our 
 Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth ! " 
 Psa, viii. 3 9. Such a thing is seldom known 
 among us. These wonders are so common to us, 
 that they cease to seem wonderful in our regard : 
 
 God writes his mighty name on every spot; 
 Man, thoughtless man, goes by and heeds it not. 
 
 An attempt to sum up either our spiritual or 
 temporal mercies would, indeed, be undertaking 
 an impossibility ; their amount exceeds that of 
 the stars of heaven : if we would number them, 
 they are more than the hairs of our head. Let 
 us speak a little of the discoveries of mankind. 
 Many of the wonderful occurrences that have 
 affected the world have taken place long ago. 
 The invention of gunpowder, and the mariner's 
 compass, the printing-press, and the Newtonian 
 system are among them : we will not dwell upon 
 them, but refer to such only as belong to our 
 own times. 
 
 In the days of my youth, for a man to fondle 
 with wild beasts, to endure a baking heat, or to 
 leap from the mast-head of a ship head-foremost 
 into the water, was altogether out of the ques- 
 tion ; and yet, of late years, thousands have seen 
 u 2 
 
222 ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 
 
 Van Amburgh playing with his lions as though 
 they were lambs. The human salamander, Cha- 
 bert, shutting himself up in an oven, seemingly 
 without hurt; and Scott, the diver, throwing 
 himself, head -foremost, from a ladder erected on 
 a lofty platform, into the water. Scott killed 
 himself in the act. None of these feats are to be 
 commended, but rather to be severely censured ; 
 yet still they are too extraordinary to be regarded 
 with indifference. They set forth the wondrous 
 powers of achievement and endurance with which 
 man is endowed. 
 
 Some time ago a speaking automaton was 
 exhibited, articulating syllables, words, and sen- 
 tences in different languages, sufficiently distinct 
 to be understood. I conversed with it myself 
 many times; and though I did not see what 
 advantages were likely to be derived from the 
 invention, yet it did seem to me to be wonderful 
 that a painted figure, a mere piece of mechanism, 
 could be made to pronounce words, and talk in 
 any degree intelligible to a human being. 
 
 In the days of our fathers before us many bold 
 enterprises were undertaken and achieved on the 
 earth, above the earth, and under the earth ; but 
 it was not until our times that a Brunei bored a 
 tunnel under the Thames, and a Stephenson 
 erected a tubular bridge over the Menai Straits. 
 
ON THE WONDERS OK OUH OWN TIMES. 223 
 
 Though the power of steam has been known 
 for ages, yet the practical purposes to which it 
 was applied before our times were few. The 
 steam-engine is our own, with all its wonder- 
 working achievements, toiling on our mountains, 
 draining our mines, drawing up our coal, forging 
 our iron, whirling round our spindles, printing 
 our newspapers, and urging onward our railroad 
 carriages and our ships. Equally on land and 
 water it puts forth its wondrous power, and does 
 that with ease which five hundred horses could 
 not with an effort perform : 
 
 When thus we see machines of power 
 
 By toil and genius wrought, 
 The product of a thousand years 
 
 Of ever-waking thought ; 
 When proofs of art around us rise, 
 
 That England calls her own, 
 Conceived and done by master minds, 
 
 And master hands alone; 
 
 we cannot but admit, that in our day we have 
 advantages that never before were enjoyed. Is 
 our gratitude equal to our gifts ? 
 
 Before our times there were lions in the Tower, 
 and in travelling caravans the huge elephant 
 might now and then be seen, with a few other 
 wild animals ; but now almost all kinds of savage 
 creatures are congregated together. In our Zoo- 
 logical Gardens, amid trees arid flowers, and gra- 
 velled walks, and lakes and fountains, not only 
 
224 ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 
 
 men, but women and children move about at 
 their ease and in safety, surrounded by the 
 savage animals of the earth. To gratify our 
 curiosity and afford us pleasure, not only are the 
 lion, the tiger, the spotted leopard, and the un- 
 tameable hysena forced from their lairs, but the 
 giraffe is overtaken in the desert, the horned 
 rhinoceros overcome in the forest, the polar bear 
 dragged from his icebergs, the hippopotamus 
 caught in the river, and scaly alligators and shiny 
 serpents, of an enormous size, are made captive 
 in the sedgy swamp. Wondrous is the power 
 that God has delegated to man : how seldom is it 
 dedicated to his glory ! 
 
 Doubtless the sun for nearly sixty centuries 
 has been gilding the skies, painting the flowers, 
 and beautifying in all sorts of ways the glowing 
 creation ; but never till now have his beams been 
 systematically exercised in painting the likenesses 
 of mankind. By other processes miniatures may 
 be like their originals ; but by the Daguerreotype 
 process they must be. Strengthened with know- 
 ledge and science, man says to the lightning of 
 heaven, " Come," and it cometh ; and to the 
 sunbeam, " Do this," and it doeth it. 
 
 Well may a mighty cry of thankfulness, 
 a mingled shout of hallelujahs mount upward to 
 the skies from the afflicted sons and daughters of 
 
ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TJMES. 225 
 
 humanity, on the discovery that, by the adminis- 
 tration of chloroform, surgical operations may be 
 performed without pain. What a heavy load has 
 been taken from the agonizing heart ! What an 
 enfranchisement has been effected of the fore- 
 boding spirit held captive by the continual fear 
 of coming trial ! Lift up your languid heads, ye 
 dejected endurers of increasing affliction ; the 
 evil ye so much dreaded may be avoided, the 
 good ye so much desired may be secured. No 
 longer weary yourselves with groaning, nor water 
 your couch with your tears, anticipating a season 
 of suffering and sorrow ; but give thanks to God 
 for the great deliverance he has wrought. Bless 
 the Lord for his goodness, and praise him, and 
 magnify him for ever ! 
 
 We have been accustomed, until latterly, to 
 look to Mexico and Peru for our gold ; but not so 
 now. All at once a part of the world, hitherto 
 lightly valued, is found to possess mines of wealth 
 apparently inexhaustible. California, a rugged 
 coast, washed by the rolling billows of the Pacific 
 Ocean, has bared its bosom, and that bosom is 
 found to be glowing with gold. There is gold in 
 the hills, gold in the valleys, and gold in the 
 running streams. Thousands with headlong haste 
 have hurried from all countries to the spot, and 
 thousands more are meditating a visit to that far- 
 
226 ON THE WONDERS OF OUE OWN TIMES. 
 
 off land. It has been said, nay, the Book of 
 Truth has said it, " Better is a little with the fear 
 of the. Lord, than great treasure and trouble 
 therewith," Prov. xv. 16. But come what will, 
 these Californian gold-hunters will have wealth : 
 
 What power have riches o'er the mind, 
 To brighter hopes and prospects blind. 
 
 Let such as have been blown about at the Cape 
 of Good Hope for weeks together, without round- 
 ing it ; such as have endured six weary months 
 in an East India voyage, speak their opinion 
 about the overland passage which is now so 
 rapidly accomplished. To me it appears one of 
 those national advantages which can hardly be 
 too highly estimated. How much valuable time 
 is hereby saved ! How much weariness and sea- 
 sickness avoided ! It is true that the lowest 
 price at which a gentleman can secure a passage 
 is 127L, and that a lady must pay 136Z., an 
 inconvenient price for many ; but when I think 
 of people going from Southampton to Calcutta in 
 forty-eight days, it makes me feel as if I were 
 talking about carrier-pigeons rather than about 
 men and women. What may we not yet live to 
 see! 
 
 Nor ought the Crystal Palace to be forgotten, 
 wnen enumerating our modern wonders. The 
 Great Exhibition, v\Lich cal'ed forth hopes and 
 
ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 227 
 
 fears somewhat extravagant, has also a claim on 
 our notice ; and the Crystal Palace, regarded in 
 respect to its peculiar construction of iron and 
 glass, its unrivalled amplitude, its rapidity of 
 erection, its accumulated treasures, and the 
 national end it was intended to serve, will, no 
 doubt, be handed down to posterity in the 
 records of future times. With a world-wide 
 object, it will have a world- wide reputation. 
 
 But among the many extraordinary things that 
 wake our wonder, none urges its claim on our 
 unfeigned admiration more successfully than the 
 electric telegraph. The swiftest race-horse is a 
 laggard, the steam-engine a tardy machine, the 
 pinion of the eagle a slow mode of progression, 
 and the very wings of the wind are unwieldy, 
 compared with the matchless speed of this new 
 ethereal agent, so recently enlisted in the service 
 of man. With a velocity, incredible as it may 
 appear, that would belt the round world eight 
 times in a few seconds, it hurries on to deliver the 
 message committed to its care. What manner of 
 men ought we to be, who have entrusted to us 
 such mighty energies and incalculable advantages! 
 Truly the rising sun should witness our praise, 
 and its setting beams bear testimony to our 
 thankfulness. 
 
 Ages have rolled away, and thousands of years 
 
228 ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 
 
 sped their silent flight to an eternal world since 
 the Pharaohs and Ptolemies of old were laid in 
 their mausoleums, and had cenotaphs erected to 
 their memory. Some things we know of ancient 
 Egypt from the records of Holy Writ ; but how 
 much more has been shrouded in unintelligible 
 hieroglyphics, and buried in the silent resting- 
 places of the departed. Yet in this our distant 
 day a key has been found to unlock these trea- 
 sure-houses of knowledge. Hieroglyphics are 
 now understood ; the graves are giving up their 
 dead, and pronouncing the hitherto unknown 
 names of their inmates. Ancient Egypt, and 
 Greece, and Assyria are become tributary to us, 
 and the enlightened visitor of the British Museum 
 sees spread before him, in its inscriptions, an 
 authentic record, plain and explicit enough to 
 blanch the face of an infidel with fear, and to 
 deepen in a Christian's heart the conviction of the 
 truthfulness of God's holy word. 
 
 It may be that my reader may think but little 
 of these things, but they ought to call up within 
 him deep emotion. I cannot fix my eyes on the 
 sarcophagi and mummy-cases from Thebes' and 
 Gournah without a thrill of awe; for the past 
 comes over my spirit, when " Joseph died, being 
 an hundred and ten years old : and they em- 
 balmed him, and he was put in a coffin in 
 
ON THE WONDERS OF OUR OWN TIMES. 229 
 
 Egypt," Gen. 1. 26. Nor can I look upon the 
 bull and lion from Nineveh, without holding 
 strange communion with that " great city," 
 wherein were more than six score thousand per- 
 sons that could not " discern between their right 
 hand and their left hand ; and also much cattle," 
 Jonah iv. 11. 
 
 Such are some of those wonders of our times, 
 which are well entitled to our most thoughtful 
 reflection. By grouping them together before 
 my reader, I make an appeal to him, and may 
 haply induce him to pay to them a more parti- 
 cular attention. The knowledge that man in his 
 most wonderful works is depending for power on 
 his almighty Maker, should lead us more con- 
 tinually with thankfulness and praise to the 
 great Fountain of wisdom and might, the " God 
 of gods, and Lord of lords, who alone doeth 
 great wonders ; for his mercy endureth for ever," 
 Psa. cxxxvi. 4. 
 
ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 
 
 No one accustomed to muse and moralize on 
 the things around him, pointing out what is esti- 
 mable and defective in human character with 
 fidelity, can reasonably expect altogether to escape 
 the charge of being personal. One friend believes 
 that he is alluded to here, and another feels quite 
 certain that she has been sketched off there, when, 
 perhaps, the fault or infirmity commented on is of 
 so general a nature that hundreds of people might, 
 with equal propriety, suppose that they were each 
 the subject of remark. I really do not see how 
 this is to be avoided. 
 
 " How was it, Mr. Humphrey," said one to me 
 the other day, " that you felt yourself at liberty to 
 put me in print?" "Among all the people you 
 know," remarked another, "you might have 
 selected some other model, without holding me up 
 to the public." Now it did appear to me that I 
 was not only innocent of what I was accused, but 
 absolutely armed in such panoply complete that 
 there was no crevice between the joints of my 
 armour ; and yet my two friends seemed as cer- 
 
ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 231 
 
 tain that I had been " hitting them off," as if I 
 had been a painter, and they had sat to me for 
 their likenesses. No little trouble had I to con- 
 vince them of their mistake. 
 
 But though I speak thus jocosely, very severe 
 should I be on myself if I could fall back on a 
 single instance in which I had been offensively 
 personal. To notice bad habits as they pass, to 
 " shoot folly as it flies," and to make such ob- 
 servations thereon as may be useful, is not an 
 unprofitable occupation; but to lie in wait for 
 failings, to abuse confidence, and animadvert per- 
 sonally and ill-naturedly on the actions of others, 
 is what I have never done intentionally, nor I 
 hope inadvertently, and I shall not willingly do so 
 in my present remarks. 
 
 One of the most delightful of all human em- 
 ployments is that of rendering others happy ; and 
 truly may he be called a philanthropist who makes 
 the happiness of others the foundation of his own. 
 Many are the occasions on which kind-hearted 
 country people manifest the friendliness of their 
 dispositions, but never are they more assiduous in 
 their attentions than when they have a visitor 
 under their care. I speak feelingly and gratefully 
 on this point, for I have often been attended with 
 as much care in the country as if I had been a 
 
232 ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 
 
 near relation of my host and hostess, and had an 
 indisputable claim on their regard and affection. 
 
 But though kind-hearted country people always 
 mean to make their visitors happy, they some- 
 times fail in their object by not duly considering 
 their temper and tone of mind. I have frequently 
 ventured on the remark, that he who would make 
 a dog happ}', must not give him a bone on a silver 
 dish, in company, but a bone without any dish at 
 all, with liberty to gnaw it by himself in the 
 stable. And by this remark I have meant to set 
 forth, that it is the same with regard to human 
 beings. To be made happy, we must be minis- 
 tered to according to our particular dispositions 
 and character. Again and again, when sur- 
 rounded with all the elements of enjoyment, has 
 the cup of pleasure been dashed from my lips by 
 some well-meant but inappropriate attention. Let 
 me try to illustrate this by describing a few scenes 
 and circumstances .still fresh in my memory ; and 
 if they have not taken place in the exact order 
 and under the precise circumstances in which I 
 shall relate them, they will not on that account 
 be unfaithful transcripts of the past. 
 
 It is indispensable to my happiness, when in 
 the country, to have a portion of the day to my- 
 self. I must, at times, read alone, ramble alone, 
 
ON MAKING OTHEES HAPPY. 233 
 
 muse alone, and visit alone the woods, coppices, 
 brooks, old stone quarries, nooks, corners, haw- 
 thorn hedges, and ditches prodigal with weeds 
 and wild flowers ; but some of my country friends 
 cannot understand this propensity, and they will 
 not, therefore, let me be alone. To avoid, then, 
 the greater evil of annoying them, I endure the 
 lesser one of being inconvenienced myself. But 
 to my illustrations. 
 
 I am in a hospitable farm-house, and much 
 enjoy the company of the friendly farmer and 
 that of his good wife and family ; but now I wish 
 to pass an hour or two alone. I have to read 
 through the contents of a book which has been 
 lent to me, to call at a cottage, and to visit the 
 remains of an old Roman camp, on which I mean 
 to make a few remarks. The attentive farmer, 
 understanding that I am about to walk abroad, 
 will not hear a word of my going alone. He 
 insists on sending to the rick -yard for his youngest 
 son, that he may accompany me, and adds, that 
 if I will only wait half an hour, till he returns 
 from the turnip-field, he will go with me him- 
 self. Thus circumstanced, I sally forth with the 
 farmer's son, who, having taken a fancy to me, 
 clings as closely to me as my own shadow. He 
 does certainly hinder me from reading my book, 
 calling at the cottage, and visiting the camp ; but 
 x2 
 
234 ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 
 
 then he endeavours to render himself agreeable by 
 pointing out to me the Bleaberry-hills (which I 
 can hardly avoid seeing if I lift up my head), by 
 showing me a fresh-painted wagon under a shed, 
 and by taking me to the very hole in the hedge 
 through which the pigs pushed their way, with 
 the terrier dogs at their heels, last Tuesday. 
 
 The farmer's good wife has taken me to a tea- 
 party, and many agreeable persons are present, 
 whose frank demeanour, simple manners, and 
 country peculiarities promise me much gratifica- 
 tion. Variety is as charming in human beings as 
 it is in natural scenery ; and I am quite disposed 
 to profit by my present favourable opportunity of 
 enjoying country society. Alas ! my expectations 
 end in disappointment. My country friends, de- 
 termined to make me happy, and diffident of their 
 own conversational powers, have placed me be- 
 tween two London ladies (who happen to be 
 visiting in the neighbourhood), from whom there 
 is no escape. The ladies, gifted in speech, have 
 been where I have been, and seen what I have 
 seen, and the better part of the evening is taken 
 up in telling each other what we already know, 
 and in going back to scenes which so lately we 
 willingly left behind us. 
 
 The secret of making people happy is known 
 only to few. It is not by the extent or number 
 
ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 235 
 
 of our attentions, but by their suitability, that we 
 succeed in adding to the complacency of others. 
 How willingly, at the present moment, would I 
 give up a hundred attentions for a little quietude, 
 and the liberty and luxury of following out my 
 own solitary inclinations in peace ! 
 
 I am again in a new locality. I came to this 
 retired habitation yesterday, and had not been in 
 the house an hour before a gun, a powder-flask, 
 and shot-belt were offered me, that I might go 
 and have a " pop at the pheasant ;" and when it 
 was known that I did not shoot, my ever-attentive 
 host was equally prompt to supply me with fish- 
 ing-tackle, a ferruled rod, beautifully taper at the 
 end, and a box of grubs, worms, and artificial 
 flies. Hardly need I say that the fishing-tackle 
 was as useless to me as the fowling-piece, being 
 equally unaccustomed to angle, troll, or fly-fish. 
 If no pheasant or partridge was served up till I 
 had shot it, and no pike or perch brought to table 
 till I had taken it from the waters, both the finny 
 and feathered tribes would have a long holiday. 
 Willingly would I be treated in a plain country 
 way, and live on the plainest country fare, of 
 which I am very fond ; but, instead of this, I am 
 absolutely pampered. I eat the best food, sit in 
 the best parlour, and sleep in the best bed. All 
 this is done to make me happy. 
 
236 ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 
 
 We naturally look for quietude in the country ; 
 and as I really do need a little unbending repose, 
 I hoped to find it here ; but my kind hostess has 
 made known my " whereabout" so generally, that 
 for the whole of this morning there has been a 
 succession of callers. Instead of enjoying a soli- 
 tary stroll in negligent attire, I have been obliged 
 to smarten myself up, to put on my best coat, 
 and to stop within doors to receive visitors. 
 Quietude, forsooth ! much more quietude should 
 I have had at home, in my own study. I must 
 not, however, complain, for this also is done to 
 make me happy. 
 
 The season has changed, and again am I at a 
 farm-house. It is a sharp December frost. The 
 little snow that lies on the ground is crisp to the 
 foot, and the trees assume fantastic shapes hung 
 with rime. I am about to sally forth to revel 
 amid the natural creation, for I long to be alone. 
 The honest farmer thinks he has a treat in store 
 for me, so he makes his appearance in his gig, 
 compels me, muffled up in a great coat, to seat 
 myself beside him, and whirls me off a dozen 
 miles to a cattle-show. Here am I surrounded 
 with people, farming implements, specimens of 
 cabbage, mangold-wurzel, and Swede turnips, 
 poultry, Devon oxen, long horns, short horns, 
 heifers, Leicestershire and Southdown sheep, and 
 
ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 237 
 
 porkers of all kinds. The delighted farmer is in 
 all his glory, inspecting the sheep, poking up the 
 pigs with his stick, feeling the bulky shoulders of 
 the Herefordshire bull, digging his thumb into 
 the fat flanks of the Durham ox ; and I well ! 
 shame upon me if, seeing him so happy, I am 
 not, in some sort, happy too. But who would 
 expect to meet Old Humphrey at a show of fat 
 cattle ? 
 
 These illustrations are enough to make it plain, 
 that with the best intentions in the world we may 
 sadly interfere with the happiness of others ; and 
 that to put others at their ease, it is necessary to 
 do, not what is suited to our disposition and in- 
 clinations, but that which is suited to theirs. 
 
 We are told in the fable, that a fox, wishing to 
 divert himself, set before the stork that he had 
 invited to dinner, soup, in a wide, shallow dish. 
 This, at first, looked very like hospitality ; but as 
 the poor stork, at the best, could only wet the 
 point of his sharp bill in it, while the fox, with his 
 tongue, could lap it up as fast as he pleased, so 
 the stork had real reason to complain. It is said 
 that " one good turn deserves another," and it 
 seems that the stork was much of this opinion, 
 whether applied to a good turn or a good joke ; 
 so he asked the fox, who could not, with any 
 regard to politeness, refuse to favour him with a 
 
238 ON MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 
 
 visit in return. The savoury meat set before the 
 fox on this occasion was served up in a glass jar, 
 with a long and narrow neck, out of which the 
 stork could eat at his pleasure, while out-witted 
 Reynard could only lick the outside of the jar. 
 This fable is well adapted to set forth my mean- 
 ing ; for, as a hundred fiat, shallow dishes would 
 never afford pleasure to a stork, nor the like 
 number of narrow-necked jars of the daintiest 
 meat satisfy the appetite of a hungry fox, neither 
 will the costliest attention we can pay our friends 
 afford them satisfaction, unless especially adapted 
 to their taste and inclinations. 
 
 I cannot but hope that some in the city, as 
 well as some in the country, will apply the 
 friendly lesson that, in a very friendly spirit, I 
 have herein endeavoured to set before them. 
 Kindness is as precious as myrrh and frankin- 
 cense ; and a pity it is that a particle of it should 
 ever be wasted or used in vain. To sum up all 
 that I have said in little space ; if we would 
 render others happy, we must not only be kindly 
 affectioned towards them, but, also, lovingly enter 
 into their disposition and circumstances. And to 
 this I would add, that if we would be happy our- 
 selves while trying to make others so, we must 
 heartily fear the Lord, love the Lord, obey the 
 Lord, and trust the Lord ; for " Happy is he that 
 
ON MAKING OTHEES HAPPY. 239 
 
 hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope 
 is in the Lord his God : which made heaven and 
 earth, the sea, and all that therein is: which 
 keepeth truth for ever/ 5 Psa. cxlvi. 5, 6. " Who- 
 so trusteth in the Lord, happy is he," Prov. 
 xvi. 20. 
 
CRITICAL SEASONS. 
 
 THERE are sometimes critical moments, seasons 
 of extreme excitement, in the lives of the sons and 
 daughters of indiscretion, that require particular 
 treatment. Many an erring being in the height 
 of his calamity, and under the stunning influence 
 of evils he has brought on himself, becomes com- 
 pletely dependent on the hands into which he 
 falls. Credit and disgrace, safety and destruction, 
 life and death, appear for the moment equally 
 hung in the balances, and the dread future, with 
 all its consequences of good and evil, depends on 
 the next step about to be taken. 
 
 The truth of the preceding remarks has been 
 impressed on my heart by painful experiences ; 
 and in relating the two following cases I cannot 
 too strongly set forth to such as may have to deal 
 with excited characters, the great advantage to be 
 obtained by sympathy, forbearance, and kindness. 
 Extreme distress should be allowed free utter- 
 ance : 
 
 " Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak 
 Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.* 
 
CRITICAL SEASONS. 241 
 
 I was alone, when one well known to me sud- 
 denly entered my apartment, looking much more 
 like a maniac than a sane man. He gave way to 
 the most intemperate language, and the bitterest 
 expressions of self-reproach. I listened without 
 interruption till he had exhausted his epithets 
 against himself, and then asked him to explain 
 just as much of his situation as he thought neces- 
 sary. With some hesitation he began. It was a 
 case involving, in his own view, loss, disgrace, and 
 ruin ; and the crisis had arrived. "When he had 
 passed through the black catalogue of his errors, 
 I asked him if that was all : and this appeared to 
 surprise him, for he seemed to expect that I 
 should be as much overwhelmed as himself by his 
 recital. The very utterance of his grief somewhat 
 relieved him. I told him that his position, though 
 bad, might have been worse, and that no case of 
 error was altogether hopeless, if followed by true 
 contrition and a hearty desire and determination, 
 according to ability, to atone for the past. I put 
 the affair in a new light, told him how I thought 
 it might be greatly relieved, and offered him my 
 best assistance. He came to me with a heavy 
 heart and an excited spirit, but he left me as a 
 new man. The bolt that he feared afterwards 
 fell, but it did not overwhelm him. He con- 
 fessed that when he called on me, there was 
 Y 
 
242 CRITICAL SEASONS. 
 
 nothing before him but madness and destruction. 
 It was the crisis of his situation, but the hope 
 that sprang up from our interview seemed to put 
 a new face on his affairs. 
 
 The other case was one of a different descrip- 
 tion. A thoughtless pleasure-seeker, who had 
 just received from his medical adviser the over- 
 whelming intelligence that his earthly days were 
 numbered, and that very few of them remained to 
 him, came to me trembling in an agony of appre- 
 hension. Hardly could an ague fit have shaken 
 his frame more convulsively. " What must I 
 do?" was his urgent inquiry. Finding that I 
 could conscientiously express a belief that he was 
 not so near his end as he had been led to believe, 
 I did so, and this enabled him to draw a deep 
 sigh, as though a weight had been taken from his 
 bosom. We then talked freely of his spiritual 
 condition, for he was as teachable as a child. 
 Though he seemed to regard himself as utterly 
 lost, yet he clung to me as if I could save him. 
 I told him that his case and mine were similar, 
 for that inasmuch as we both were sinners, we 
 both stood in need of exactly the same remedy 
 for sin. There was no hope, no consolation, no 
 promise held out to me in God's holy word, that 
 was not as freely offered to him. The hour we 
 passed together was to him an important one, for 
 
CRITICAL SEASONS. 
 
 243 
 
 it was the crisis of his condition, and from that 
 season he was either to hope, or to despair. 
 Through mercy it was to be the former. I com- 
 mended him, when he left me, to the care of a 
 more experienced Christian guide than myself, 
 and he became a seeker after Him whom to know 
 is life eternal. I saw him several times after- 
 wards, and his end was peace. 
 
 I could add to the number of my illustrations, 
 but the above will be sufficient to impress a Chris- 
 tian reader with the truth, that in cases of pecu- 
 liar excitement, great is the advantage to be 
 obtained by sympathy, forbearance, and kindness. 
 
ON THE LITTLE THINGS THAT 
 MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE. 
 
 THOUGH there be neither wisdom nor origi- 
 nality in giving utterance to the observation, 
 " Trifles make up the sum of life," inasmuch as 
 the saying is common-place, and has almost grown 
 into a proverb, still there may be some discretion 
 in setting forth, in as strong a light as possible, 
 the advantage of turning the trifles that make up 
 our lives to a good account. 
 
 When it is said that " trifles make up the sum 
 of life," it is not to be understood that these 
 trifles are idle jests, or useless amusements, but 
 only that they are events of comparatively small 
 importance ; great events are exceptions, and 
 small occurrences are the rule of our general ex- 
 istence, and, taken in this sense, the saying, 
 " Trifles make up the sum of life," is undoub - 
 edly true. 
 
 The other day, when in company with a talent d 
 friend, I jocularly attempted to puzzle him, by 
 setting before him two problems, not mathema- 
 tical, but moral ; the first was, How can a human 
 
ON THE LITTLE THINGS, ETC. 245 
 
 being do the greatest amount of good in the least 
 possible amount of time ? And the other, How 
 can he contrive to commit the least possible evil 
 in the greatest possible amount of time ? His 
 answer was, that if Plato, and Solon, and Socrates 
 were at his elbow, something like an answer might 
 possibly be obtained ; but in their absence, he 
 thought it would be unreasonable to expect an 
 answer from him. But though it was in a buoy- 
 ant spirit that I proposed these problems, I 
 seriously thought afterwards that they embodied 
 a very important principle. What a change 
 would take place in this sinful world, if, seeking 
 for heavenly aid, every one, in the trifles that 
 make up the sum of life, strove to eifect the most 
 good, and to commit the least evil. 
 
 Is my reader young, and resolved on a virtuous 
 career ? Does health mantle his cheek, and con- 
 fidence animate his heart ? Does hope tell " her 
 flattering tale," and the fair future promise him 
 all that he desires ? If so, it would ill become 
 me to rob him of his unrealized treasures, and 
 much rather would I strengthen than weaken his 
 trust in the goodly to-morrows he believes he shall 
 enjoy. He can, however, only reasonably hope to 
 possess them by taking heed to his steps. Years 
 are made up of hours, and life of small occur- 
 rences. He must make up his account, then, to 
 Y 2 
 
246 ON THE LITTLE T) ;TNGS 
 
 rely, not on the wonderful deeds he may occa- 
 sionally achieve, so much as on his daily course. 
 Looking up for help, in his commonest thoughts, 
 and words, and deeds, he must love to do good to 
 those around him, and remember his Creator in 
 the days of his youth. 
 
 Has my reader, on the contrary, a gray head 
 and a graven brow ? Still more necessary is it 
 for him to be watchful over himself, for the world 
 expects that from age which it looks not for from 
 youth. An aged man, careless in his actions, and 
 reckless of his influence on those around him, is a 
 melancholy spectacle. What a great difference 
 there is in gray-headed men ! Some seem almost 
 to forget that there is a good and merciful Being, 
 on whom they are dependent for every breath 
 they draw, while others are affectionately urgent 
 for the honour of their Divine Master, 
 
 And love to ponder on his grace and power, 
 Through every passing day and changing hour. 
 
 They will have the Redeemer pre-eminent ; he 
 must be the Alpha and the Omega, the first and 
 the last : in season and out of season, his praise 
 must be on their lips ; he must be ruling and 
 reigning as the Lord of lords and King of kings. 
 Aged men should show their thankfulness for 
 having lived so long, and manifest their conscious- 
 ness that they have not long to live. 
 
THAT MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE. 24? 
 
 It would be well if we all reckoned less on 
 extraordinary events, and thought more of our 
 ordinary duties. We cannot all be measuring the 
 Pyramids, visiting Mount Hecla, searching for 
 the source of the Niger, discovering new planets, 
 and evangelizing the heathen ; but we may all be 
 leading humble, useful, and grateful lives ; bearing 
 one another's burdens on earth, and helping each 
 other on our way to heaven. " Let your light so 
 shine before men, that they may see your good 
 works, and glorify your Father which is in 
 heaven," Matt. v. 16. 
 
 I knew a farmer, who was so habitually churlish 
 and opposed to kindly deeds, that when a stranger 
 interceded with him on behalf of an overworked 
 and weary maid-servant, in harvest time, that she 
 might be allowed a little rest, his reply was, " Let 
 her rest in her grave." I never think of him 
 without thinking of these words. I knew another, 
 of an opposite disposition, and though he never 
 did a single thing that could be called wonderful, 
 yet everybody knew him as a kind-hearted, Chris- 
 tian man, diligent in the means of grace, and 
 exulting in the hope of glory. He left a name 
 and an influence behind him, and his grave is yet 
 visited. 
 
 The sculptured lines this simple truth record, 
 lie loved his neighbours, and he feared the Lord. 
 
248 ON THE LITTLE THINGS 
 
 Hardly can we ask ourselves the question too 
 frequently, What do others think of us ? What 
 is their estimate of our uprightness ? our love of 
 truth ? our sobriety ? our kindness ? our humility ? 
 our thankfulness and our piety ? And what is 
 the general influence we are spreading around? 
 Should we be quite satisfied with the opinions that 
 others have formed of us, and be quite content to 
 leave no better name behind us than we deserve ? 
 
 It must now be between fifty and sixty years 
 since my aged grandmother, in reading the thirty - 
 seventh Psalm, laid a particular stress on the 
 word shall, in the fifth and sixth verses, thereby 
 meaning to convey the positive certainty that God 
 would be as good as his word. " Delight thyself 
 also in the Lord ; and he shall give thee the 
 desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto 
 the Lord ; trust also in him ; and he shall bring 
 it to pass." This was a very trifling occurrence, 
 but it made an impression on my mind, I trust 
 never to be effaced. From that day to this never 
 have I read that Psalm without seeing, in my 
 memory, the form and visage of my venerable 
 relative, and hearing her querulous voice, " Trust 
 also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass." Try, 
 reader, if you cannot impress some youthful heart 
 with the conviction of the truth of God's holy 
 word as deeply as my aged grandmother impressed 
 
THAT MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE. 249 
 
 mine. Such a deed will not disgrace the trifles 
 that make up the sum of your life. 
 
 Some who have a love for practical jokes, hardly 
 let a day go by without indulging in them, alto- 
 gether unmindful of the consequences that may 
 ensue. Not long since, while a workman was 
 drinking, a comrade came behind him and pushed 
 his head forward, by way of joke. A suffocating 
 sensation and violent cough ensued, from the 
 effects of which he never recovered. About a 
 week ago I heard a distressing account of him, 
 He walked about his chamber gasping, and abso- 
 lutely fighting the air that he might draw a full 
 breath, but in vain. I am told that there is no hope 
 of his recovery. His comrade, who thoughtlessly 
 occasioned this heavy calamity, had often visited 
 him in his illness ; but, alas ! how bitter must be 
 his emotions ! The practical jokes of the light- 
 hearted and thoughtless, in a thousand cases, have 
 ended awfully. Sight has been destroyed, limbs 
 have been broken, minds have been wounded, and 
 reason has been scared from her throne by reck- 
 less mirth arid wanton merriment. Reader, let 
 nothing of this sort be laid to your charge ; let 
 nothing of this kind mingle with the trifles that 
 make up the sum of your life. 
 
 A case has just been communicated to me, 
 wherein a boy, in the exuberance of his unbridled 
 
250 ON THE LITTLE THINGS 
 
 spirits, rudely pinched a little girl on the back of 
 her neck. It was neither cruelty nor ill-nature 
 that prompted the deed ; but from that hour to 
 this the poor child's head has been on one side, 
 nor is there the least hope of it ever being other- 
 wise. Should that boy be in the habit of meeting 
 the poor girl during their future lives, how painful 
 will be his emotions ! for hardly will his con- 
 science fail to accuse him of the heavy burden he 
 has laid on another. 
 
 There are, however, buoyant sallies that are not 
 of an objectionable character. During a playful 
 moment, in days gone by, one that was near and 
 dear to me placed before me the sketch of an old 
 horse. The poor old animal, with his thin neck, 
 hanging lower lip, bare ribs, high hips, and lame 
 hind leg, seemed only fit for the " knackers." I 
 put it quickly, with an impatient push, aside, as 
 a subject that I did not care to ponder on. This 
 hasty act of mine being observed, afforded such 
 diversion, that the playful pastime was persisted 
 in. A considerable number of these sketches, the 
 very fac-simile of the one which had at first 
 occasioned my impatience, being made and cut 
 out in paper, were deposited, according to oppor- 
 tunity, in different places, so that afterwards I 
 was every now and then unexpectedly stumbling 
 on one of them. There it was, with its lame leg, 
 
THAT MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE. 251 
 
 its high hips, and its hanging lip. I found it on 
 my dressing-table, in my shaving-box, on my 
 writing-desk, under my teacup at breakfast, 
 among my manuscripts, pinned to my slippers 
 and my gloves, and I have pulled it out of my 
 pocket with my pocket-handkerchief. Even this 
 very day I found it between the leaves of a book, 
 though the hand that placed it there for years 
 and years has been motionless in the grave. This 
 sketch, that would be nothing to another, is 
 something to me, for it brings one before me with 
 whom I still love to companionize. It is the 
 symbol of a sportive fancy, an affectionate heart, 
 and a spirit of piety; and coming upon me 
 suddenly, as it did to-day, it moved me even to 
 tears. 
 
 Abrupt emotions ofttimes yield relief; 
 The tear I shed was not the tear of grief. 
 
 Are you, reader, by your every-day actions, 
 spreading such an influence around, that when 
 beckoned away from the world, you will be re- 
 membered as one with a kind heart and a heaven- 
 seeking spirit? If this is not the case, there 
 must be much that requires correction in the 
 trifles that are making up the sum of your life. 
 
 Whether young, mature, or aged, this subject 
 is important to us all; for the thread of our 
 
252 ON THE LTTTLE THINGS 
 
 existence may be summarily snapped. What, 
 then, are we thinking, and saying, and doing? 
 What are the influences we are spreading around 
 us? And what will be the character we shall 
 leave behind us ? Some have been remembered 
 for their pride, their churlishness, their bitterness, 
 their cruelty, and their scepticism ; let it be our 
 desire to be remembered for our humility, our 
 gentleness, our forbearance, our kindness, and 
 our piety. There is, however, no other mode of 
 truly behaving kindly to others than that of 
 feeling kindly towards them, and the only way 
 to act like a disciple of the Redeemer is in reality 
 to be one. 
 
 I will now bring my observations to a close ; the 
 amount of them is this, that if we truly desire to 
 fear the Lord, and do good to our fellow-pilgrims 
 on their way to a better world, taking for our 
 motto, " Glory to God in the highest, and on 
 earth peace, good will toward men," we must not 
 be content to act a part on "high days and 
 holidays ; " the principle within us must be set 
 forth in every day's occurrences, and in the tone 
 of our thoughts, our temper, our dealings with 
 others, and our commonest actions ; in a word, 
 it must mingle with our very being, and pervade 
 the trifles that make up the sum of our lives. 
 
THAT MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE. 253 
 
 Weak, and changing, and sinful creatures as we 
 are, great will be our privilege if we are permitted 
 and enabled 
 
 To love the Lord, whate'er the bonds that bind us, 
 And leave a name for kindly deeds behind us. 
 
ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 
 
 ONE of the most valuable possessions in the 
 world is the inclination and ability to turn all 
 things to the best advantage. Some men get 
 more by their losses than others do by their 
 gains, and endure and gratefully thank God for 
 afflictions which would weigh down their fellows 
 to the dust. If this treasure be yours, strive to 
 preserve it ; and if it be not, strive to obtain it. 
 Its value is far beyond that of the Indies, and its 
 possessor has what the gold of California cannot 
 buy. 
 
 The use we make of our endowments and 
 possessions is the source of the greater part of 
 our joys and sorrows. He that in wise benevo- 
 lence casts his bread upon the waters, shall have 
 it returned to him after many days, while he who 
 spends his substance in riotous living, will end his 
 career in wretchedness and rags. According to 
 the prudence or imprudence with which they are 
 used, a river will ruin or enrich a soil, and poison 
 will cure or kill a patient. Seeing, then, that 
 such opposite effects may be produced from the 
 
ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 255 
 
 same causes, I can hardly do better than draw 
 your attention to a subject so important. If you 
 buy in the stocks the funds may fall ; and if you 
 purchase railway shares, you may get no dividend ; 
 but if you will adopt my motto of making the 
 best of things, T promise you a rise in the value 
 of your stock, and a dividend that shall make you 
 jump for joy. 
 
 It will scarcely be denied, that adversity, when 
 used aright, draws iis nearer to God than pros- 
 perity. In the former we are left to depend on 
 him, in the latter we are disposed to trust to 
 ourselves. When we make the best of an afflic- 
 tion, we are the stronger for our weakness, and 
 the happier for tbe grief we have endured. As a 
 tree lit up with sunshine is more beautiful after a 
 shower, so a gracious spirit is more lovable after 
 a season of sorrow. What tenderness do we feel 
 in sanctified affliction ! What meltings of heart, 
 what thankfulness, what longings after the Lord ! 
 Oh, turn to Him in your afflictions, and your 
 heart shall be as a green pasture, and your soul as 
 a well-watered garden. 
 
 With what jealous care the miser hoards up, 
 and watches over his pence and his pounds, 
 grudging himself common comforts that he may 
 greedily add to his gold. And with what a quick 
 eye does the merchant discover the best market 
 
256 ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 
 
 for his merchandise, that haply he may increase 
 his gains a hundred-fold. Let us be misers of 
 our time, making the best of our moments and 
 our months, our hours and our years. Let us be 
 merchants with our endowments, employing them 
 so that they may be productive of present profit 
 and future peace. The best things abused may 
 become bad, while the worst things may be so 
 used that they may minister to our advantage. 
 
 "We make sad errors when we forget that the 
 same Almighty hand that gives us light spreads 
 the darkness around, and that we have as much 
 reason to bless God for his wisdom in withholding 
 as for his goodness in bestowing. His gifts are 
 both joyous and grievous. " Shall we receive 
 good at the hand of God," said Job, "and shall 
 we not receive evil ? " When we do God's will 
 we serve ourselves ; and when we do it not, we 
 injure ourselves. The idle, the envious, the 
 proud, the cruel, and the covetous are all con- 
 spirators against their own peace. They have 
 powers which they abuse, opportunities which 
 they neglect, and advantages which they turn not 
 to account ; in one word, they do not make the 
 best of what is committed to their care. 
 
 What mistakes are made by heroes and con- 
 querors when they pursue the flitting phantom 
 called fame, which mocks them while they are 
 
ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 25? 
 
 alive, and often abandons them when they are 
 dead. Were the Pharaohs and the Ptolemies, 
 the Caesars and Alexanders of the world, but half 
 as anxious to have their names written in the 
 book of life as they are to have them graven on 
 the granite, and sculptured on marble, they 
 would praise God more, and themselves less, and 
 become the preservers instead of the destroyers 
 of mankind. Too often they make the worst, 
 and not the best of their advantages, sacrificing 
 the happiness of others for their own selfish ends. 
 Would that it could be proclaimed from every 
 house-top, or rather written on every heart, that 
 the reason why human life has not more joys and 
 fewer griefs is this : we do not make the best of 
 it. This is an universal error. When we are 
 riot rendered grateful by our mercies, we are 
 unmindful of their real worth ; and when we are 
 not bettered by sorrow, it is sin that prevents our 
 making the best of it. Banish sin, and the 
 flowers of the earth will be more abundant, and 
 its briers and thorns greatly diminished : 
 
 "Oh what a bright and blessed world 
 
 This groaning earth of ours will be, 
 
 When from its throne the tempter hurl'd 
 
 Shall leave it all, O Lord, to thee !" 
 
 Life is the goodly gift of a gracious God, and 
 it must be misused and abused indeed if it sets 
 z 2 
 
258 ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 
 
 not forth his glory. Short as it is, however, it is 
 frequently made shorter by indiscretion and folly. 
 If men will jeopardise their lives, recklessly en- 
 gaging in the mad-headed, foolhardy steeple- 
 chases of the world, can it be cause of wonder 
 that the back of the horse and the neck of the 
 rider should be broken ? Life is not given to be 
 thus flung away as a worthless thing. 
 
 The lavish waste of wealth in childish whims, 
 or weak-minded vanity, is enough to call forth 
 derision. " The superb coffin of the cardinal 
 Borromeo, in the cathedral of Milan," says one, 
 "is composed of crystal on the top and sides, 
 and is quite transparent. The coffin is very 
 large, and constructed of framework in squares, 
 oblongs, triangles, very massive, of the most 
 highly burnished silver, and the spaces are filled 
 in, not with glass, but with the most brilliant rock 
 crystal of wonderful size. By this means the body 
 is visible. The crozier and mitre, also, are studded 
 with the most splendid gems, the gift of the kings 
 of Spain and Portugal. Better far is it to lay the 
 dead with all solemnity beneath the clods of the 
 valley. If they sleep in Jesus, they shall rise at 
 the resurrection of the just, all glorious and 
 resplendent in his likeness." 
 
 To say nothing of the doubtful taste of holding 
 up, as it were, to view the perishing and unsightly 
 
ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 259 
 
 remains of a human being, when we call to mind 
 the good that may be effected by a well-spent 
 pound, and consider how many pounds a coffin of 
 crystal and burnished silver would cost, we may 
 safely venture to express the opinion that who- 
 ever had the management of the wealth of cardinal 
 Borromeo, they did not, in this instance at least, 
 make the best of it. 
 
 Make the best of all you have, but especially 
 make the best you can of your Bible, for then 
 you may be safely trusted in other things. A 
 man may have a mine of wealth on his estate 
 without knowing it, and he may have a Bible in 
 his bookcase without being half aware of its value. 
 You cannot set too high a value on what is inva- 
 luable. The Bible is the voice of God speaking 
 audibly to man. Thus saith the Lord, "As the 
 rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, 
 arid returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, 
 and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may 
 give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater : so 
 shall my word be that goeth forth out of my 
 mouth ; it shall not return unto me void, but it 
 shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall 
 prosper in the thing whereto I sent it," Isa. Iv. 
 10, 11. 
 
 Whatever may be your position, make the best 
 
260 ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 
 
 of it. Are you up? Take heed lest you fall. 
 Are you down ? Cry to Him who is almighty, 
 and he shall lift you up. Are you well? Devote 
 your energies to noble objects. Are you sick? 
 Apply to the Great Physician. Are you before- 
 hand ? Turn your advantage to account. Are you 
 behind-hand? Double your diligence to recover 
 your lost ground. If you have committed an 
 error, hasten to amend it ; if you have done an 
 injury be prompt to make reparation. If the 
 bright beams of day fall upon you, magnify your 
 great Creator ; and if you are surrounded with 
 darkness, wait patiently till the day breaks, and 
 the shadows flee away. The best position you 
 have ever been in might possibly have been 
 improved, and the worst might, perhaps, have 
 been mitigated by making the best of it. 
 
 There are thousands who do not make a good 
 use of the talents committed to their care ; nay, 
 tens of thousands who make a bad use of them : 
 and yet plague, pestilence, and famine, do not 
 occasion half so much sorrow and sighing in the 
 world as that produced by our culpable neglect in 
 relieving human suffering and sorrow, and in 
 adding to the happiness of those around us. 
 
 But while talking of others, how is it with my- 
 self? Is Old Humphrey making the best of the 
 
ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 261 
 
 things committed to his care ? Will his thoughts, 
 his words, and his deeds endure the scrutiny of 
 his fellow- men, and the lightning glance of an 
 All-seeing eye ? Is he always using his influence 
 aright, and when he takes up his pen does his 
 soul pant to do good, " as the hart panteth after 
 the water brooks?" Can no one say that he 
 talks of Christian love, and gives way to anger ? 
 That he disguises his pride in the garb of humi- 
 lity, and follows hard after worldly objects while 
 directing others to heavenly pursuits? It be- 
 comes him to put his finger on his lip, and his 
 hand on his mouth rather than to reply. And it 
 becomes both him and his readers to say, in the 
 humility of their souls, " All we like sheep have 
 gone astray, we have turned every one to his own 
 way," Isa. liii. 6. "If we say that we have no 
 sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in 
 us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and 
 just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from 
 all unrighteousness/' 1 John i. 8, 9. But is there 
 a shipwrecked reader, who shall peruse these 
 lines, whose heart fails him, and who has well 
 nigh given up all hope of worldly prosperity or 
 heavenly peace, to him I say, Cheer up, despond- 
 ing brother ! Fear not, neither be thou dismayed ; 
 let us encourage one another. All will yet go 
 
262 ON MAKING THE BEST OF IT. 
 
 well, if, looking to Him who helpeth those who 
 trust in him, we determine with all the energies of 
 our hearts and souls, whatever our position may 
 be, to make the best of it : 
 
 The sorrowing soul shall ne'er be long distrest, 
 
 That, seeking heaven as its eternal rest, 
 
 Of all God's mingled mercies makes the best. 
 
ON INTERMEDDLING. 
 
 I WISH the article I am now penning may meet 
 the eye of inter meddlers, to reprove and reform 
 them. By intermeddling, I mean an officious in- 
 terference with the concerns of other people, or 
 the habit of entering on impossible or unwise 
 undertakings, through silly curiosity, or desire of 
 publicity. A thorough-paced intermeddler cares 
 nothing for another's good, but everything for his 
 own gratification. 
 
 And now, oh that I had before me the whole 
 pernicious tribe of intermeddlers, who inflict such 
 unnecessary pain, and create such needless heart- 
 burnings in the world, with full power to arrest 
 their annoying course ! for then should three 
 measured months at the tread-mill so occupy 
 them with their own concerns, that they should 
 have no spare moments to devote to the affairs of 
 their neighbours. 
 
 At an early age I had to rue the bad counsel 
 and evil influence of intermeddlers, as you shall 
 hear. When a schoolboy, my master, on one 
 occasion, treated me with unmerited severity, and 
 
264 ON INTERMEDDLING. 
 
 my youthful blood boiled in my veins at what 
 appeared to me to be his injustice and cruelty ; 
 but exasperated as I was, time would, no doubt, 
 have soothed, if not healed my wounded spirit, 
 had it not been for the intermeddlers around me. 
 These so highly coloured the conduct of my 
 master, and so highly complimented me for my 
 noble, independent spirit, that I was compelled to 
 keep up my character with them, by adopting the 
 worst course I could take, that of running away 
 from school. The bitter annoyances to which 
 this act of rebellion subjected me are even now 
 fresh in my memory. 
 
 The intermeddling folly of embarking in im- 
 possible or unwise undertakings is, in comparison, 
 trifling when compared with the yet greater error 
 of officiously interfering in other people's affairs. 
 I want to brand the brow of this latter offence, 
 on account of its meanness, its cruelty, and its 
 wickedness. If mankind were half as much in 
 earnest in hunting intermeddlers, and such as 
 intentionally afflict those around them, as they 
 are in hunting hares and foxes, many a downcast 
 head would be lifted up, and many a dejected 
 heart would rejoice. 
 
 One might imagine that there were positive 
 duties and objects of practical usefulness enough 
 to employ us all, without our wandering in quest 
 

 ON INTERMEDDLING. 265 
 
 of doubtful, difficult, impracticable projects ; but 
 some there are who love to fish in troubled waters, 
 to scrub away at the dark skin of the blackamoor, 
 and to undertake impossibilities. I wish them all 
 joy of their enterprises ; but recommend you, 
 reader, not to embark in such unpromising specu- 
 lations. 
 
 Marvels have long been in vogue among sages, 
 Yet, though in many things harsh, if not rancorous, 
 
 All the philosophers, scribes of all ages, 
 
 Combine, ' und voce,' in one point to anchor us 
 
 Children of light! leave the world to its mulishness, 
 
 Things to their nature, and fools to their foolishness, 
 Granite was hard in the quarries of yore ! 
 
 Hoary old Merlin, that sage necromancer, 
 Gave me, a student, a similar answer, 
 
 When I besought him for light and for lore : 
 Student of light, leave the world to its mulishness, 
 Things to their nature and fools to their foolishness, 
 
 Berries were bitter in forests of yore ! 
 
 Treading the snow-crested heights of Armenia, 
 Threading the valleys of broad Abyssinia, 
 
 The oracle answered me just as before: 
 
 Wouldst thou have peace ? Leave the world to its mulishness, 
 Things to their nature and fools to their foolishness, 
 
 Beetles were blind in the ages of yore 1" 
 
 Goethe*, whose sentiments are above expressed, 
 had no small insight into human nature, and if 
 we can obtain a useful lesson from him, we shall 
 hardly be wise to decline it. The Christian duty 
 of doing good to all, according to our ability, is 
 binding upon every one ; but no good is likely to 
 2 A 
 
266 ON INTERMEDDLING 
 
 be effected by wrangling reasoning, or interfering 
 with bigots in mere matters of opinion. To 
 attempt to impress the heart that is hard as 
 granite, to improve such as are bitter in dis- 
 position, and to convince those who are wilfully 
 blind, is far from being a prudent undertaking. 
 Let, then, the headstrong alone, and enter not 
 into their altercations. There are, as there used 
 to be, in matters of opinion, the obdurate, the 
 implacable, and the blind, who are determined 
 to remain so ; and any attempt to outwrangle or 
 outreason them will be attended with little or no 
 advantage. I can fancy, were the sages of old 
 now present, how they would express asto- 
 nishment that mankind had made so little pro- 
 gress in the wisdom of letting useless things 
 alone : 
 
 " I fancy I see them convulsed in a titter, 
 
 Repeating the truth so oft spoke before ; 
 That granite was hard, that woodberries were bitter, 
 And beetles were blind in the ages of yore." 
 
 Years ago, farmers were so bigoted in their 
 op inions about cultivating the ground, that a new 
 kind of plough, or a new sort of manure, would 
 have been regarded as an absurdity. Years ago, 
 too, Englishmen, to a very great extent, believed 
 that Frenchmen ate frogs, wore wooden shoes, 
 and were all slaves, and that one Englishman 
 
ON INTERMEDDLING. 267 
 
 could at any time beat two, if not ten Frenchmen. 
 These headstrong prejudices have been removed 
 by facts, rather than by wrangling or reasoning 
 upon them. Be careful, then, in intermeddling 
 with headstrong people, and trust rather to the 
 influence of facts than to your ability to convince 
 them by argument against their will. 
 
 There are intermeddlers of all kinds ; some 
 give up their minds to politics, and are quite 
 ready, though they cannot govern themselves, to 
 regulate, the affairs of a kingdom. Some mix 
 themselves up with religious matters, and flip- 
 pantly disposing of God's holy word as a fable, 
 conceitedly point out a more excellent way of 
 their own. Some, whether competent or not for 
 the position, must be at the head of parochial 
 affairs ; while others, hasting to be rich, plunge 
 recklessly into railroad and other speculations, to 
 the discomfort of those around them, and their 
 own ruin. 
 
 I forget whether I have before alluded to an 
 intermeddler who much annoyed me and others 
 in the days of my youth. Boylike, I went to 
 the exhibition of a conjuror of some reputation 
 and wonderful, indeed, to me, was his perform- 
 ance. Cards changed colour, birds flew out of 
 eggs, watches were pounded in mortars, wedding- 
 rings mysteriously found their way into the 
 
268 ON INTERMEDDLING. 
 
 middle of a roasted leg of mutton, and all the 
 wonders of legerdemain were exhibited to our 
 astonished gaze. We were all in great good 
 humour, the conjuror because he had our money, 
 and we because we had a shilling's worth of 
 entertainment for our shilling, when a young sprig 
 of an intermeddler, in a green jacket, and up to 
 his knees in boots, would make us all wiser than 
 we wished to be. He would have it that the 
 exhibition was all a cheat, that the cards did 
 not change colour, that the birds had been put 
 into egg-shells, and the wedding-rings into the 
 mutton, and that the watch had been removed 
 from the mortar. In short, he persisted in ex- 
 posing the conjuror, and proving what we all 
 knew well enough before, that he only pretended 
 to the things he admired. He abundantly suc- 
 ceeded in putting the conjuror in a rage, and the 
 whole party out of temper ; and thus ended the 
 exhibition, no one at all thanking him for his 
 pains. 
 
 On a later occasion, I was present at a lecture 
 of an interesting kind. As it was expected that 
 the opinions of the lecturer would be combated 
 by many who were present, it was very judiciously 
 arranged, to avoid confusion, that the lecturer 
 should be allowed, without interruption, to state 
 his views, and then that the company should 
 
ON INTERMEDDLING. 269 
 
 advance their objections. Alas ! we had an in- 
 termeddler among us, who must, forsooth, against 
 our inclination, defend us from the sophistry of 
 the lecturer. Not a minute elapsed without his 
 officious interference to prove that the lecturer 
 was a charlatan ; so that, instead of an interesting 
 lecture, and a dispassionate reply, we had an 
 incessant wrangle, in which, at last, the company 
 took a part, and the affair ended in uproar, 
 bitterness, confusion, and disappointment. 
 
 Many are too busy in correcting the errors of 
 mankind, to find time to attend to their own im- 
 perfections. They do things on a large scale, and 
 prefer reforming a nation to amending a neigh- 
 bourhood. They pass by their own doors to 
 enter the habitation of their neighbours. Again, 
 I say, reader, (for something like the same sen- 
 timent has before been expressed by me,) while 
 others, with axes of zeal and anger, try to fell the 
 giant oaks in the forest of human infirmity, weed 
 you the little gardens of your own hearts in 
 quietude and peace. 
 
 There are some who are inter meddlers in a small 
 way, and make matters worse by undertaking to 
 make them better. The bear in the fable, by his 
 officious folly in killing a fly, demolished the face 
 of his benefactor ; and these act in a manner 
 equally foolish, for they fail not to interfere in 
 2 A 2 
 
270 ON INTERMEDDLING. 
 
 every quarrel, and often get punished for their 
 pains. " He that passeth by, and meddleth with 
 strife belonging not to him, is like one that 
 taketh a dog by the ears," Prov. xxvi. 1 7. 
 
 One lover of peace and quietude will do more 
 good than a score of your intermeddling busy- 
 bodies, who, from morning to night, afflict those 
 around them with their unasked advice, their 
 prying prudence, and their unwelcome assistance. 
 As a letter-opening, cupboard-peeping, wine- 
 tasting servant is a pest in a house, so is an 
 officious meddler a plague to a neighbourhood. 
 Rather would I live in a lone cot on a common, 
 than in the mansion-house of the lord mayor, if 
 in the latter case I must have some people whom 
 I know for my neighbours. " Commune with 
 your own heart upon your bed, and be still," is a 
 text of holy writ that the meddler cannot under- 
 stand. 
 
 We have all heard of the intermeddling boy, 
 who cut up his goose to get at her golden eggs, 
 and of him who knocked a hole in his drum to 
 look at the sound. Intermeddling did not 
 answer their purpose, and it is not a whit more 
 likely to succeed in manhood than in boyhood. 
 
 I have heard of cruel cases of intermeddling ; 
 some of them, doubtless, were true, while others 
 may have been exaggerated. Young men have 
 
ON INTERMEDDLING. 2?1 
 
 had their prospects blighted and their bad pas- 
 sions called forth by public reproof, when a 
 kinder course and a more private correction would 
 most likely have done them good. Young women 
 have suffered in their reputation by the affected 
 kindness of intermeddlers, who, under pretence 
 of protecting them from the slanderer, have given 
 a tenfold currency to the slander. Errors dead, 
 buried, and wept over for twenty years, by those 
 who committed them, have been raked from the 
 grave, and held up in the glare of the noon-day 
 sun ; and the brow of uprightness again and again 
 has been branded on account of some far-removed 
 relationship to a faulty character. The folly, the 
 cruelty, and the sin of the intermeddler in these 
 cases is great. 
 
 How is it with us ? Are we quite clean from 
 this leprosy, and more ready to hide than to 
 reveal the failing of an offending brother ? Are 
 we quietly attending to our own business, and 
 resembling rather in our communication with our 
 neighbours the pleasant and welcome flower than 
 the annoying stinging-nettle? Are we, on the 
 one hand, ready to join in heartily with every 
 good word and work, and on the other, anxious to 
 avoid the folly, the cruelty, and the sin of the 
 iiitermeddler ? 
 
OLD HUMPHEEY'S KEMONSTBANCE 
 WITH HIS FAIK FEIENDS. 
 
 THOUGH there would be, perhaps, a difficulty 
 in deciding whether, in encouraging what is right, 
 or in reproving what is wrong, we are the more 
 profitably employed, there can be no question 
 about the former being the more agreeable occu- 
 pation. In taking up my pen gently to reprove 
 an error on the part of my fair friends, my re- 
 marks should fall as lightly as thistle down, if 
 thereby my object of bringing about an amend- 
 ment would be likely to be obtained ; but as I 
 fear my observations, if they had no piquancy, 
 would be disregarded, I am induced, somewhat 
 unwillingly, to impart to them a little more 
 pungency. 
 
 There is among the numberless excellent quali- 
 ties of the sex, a want of thoughtfulness and con- 
 sideration in many things that is quite at issue 
 with the general kindness of their hearts. Did 
 this want of thought manifest itself only at long in- 
 tervals, it might be of little consequence j but when 
 
OLD HUMPHREY'S REMONSTRANCE, ETC. 273 
 
 it becomes a common practice, and mingles with 
 the every-day affairs of life, it is time that some 
 effort should be made to correct it. I am not 
 about to pursue the subject of want of thought in 
 all its bearings, but only to dwell on a few par- 
 ticulars ; in doing which I trust my fair friends 
 will bear with my friendly remonstrance. 
 
 The practice of writing illegibly proceeds from 
 want of consideration, for no one would willingly 
 be misunderstood. That this inconvenient prac- 
 tice prevails among the sex, will hardly be called 
 in question. I have a correspondent, and a 
 talented and much-valued one too, whose hand- 
 writing is so peculiar, that to read it is altogether 
 out of the question. Ail that can be done on 
 receiving a letter from her is, boldly to guess at 
 the meaning of the unintelligible hieroglyphics, 
 assisted by such words as may happen to be 
 intelligible ; so that the deciphering of one of her 
 epistles is no more nor less than taking the sura 
 of its probabilities. A facetious friend, the other 
 day, made the remark that, contrasted with one 
 of these epistles, the shadowy mysteries of the 
 ancient Sphynx were luminous. This language 
 of his may be somewhat hyperbolical ; yet may 
 I truly say, that the last letter of my respected 
 correspondent still remains in part unread, being 
 hermetically sealed, not with wax or wafer, but 
 
274 OLD HUMPH KEY'S REMONSTRANCE 
 
 by the much more secure guardianship of its own 
 inaccessible intelligibility. 
 
 Not ten minutes ago came an epistle from one 
 of superior understanding, who is struggling, and 
 struggling bravely, to win her way by imparting 
 instruction to the young. Greatly desiring to 
 know of her welfare, and of the state of her meal- 
 barrel and cruse of oil, I have been trying to read 
 her letter ; but, alas ! the words meant to convey 
 to me the information I wished to acquire are so 
 very questionable, that I am still left in doubt and 
 uncertainty. The working of this want of consi- 
 deration in writing illegibly in the common affairs 
 of life is sad. If the sentiments expressed in a 
 letter are good, and the information given is im- 
 portant, it is to be regretted that there should be 
 any impediment in comprehending them ; and if, 
 on the other hand, they are trifling and worthless, 
 it is rather too bad to puzzle, uselessly, the brains 
 of the reader. These are, however, among the 
 least vexatious consequences of illegible writing. 
 
 If a lady writes for information respecting a 
 servant she is about to engage, who has referred 
 her to me for a character, it is a sad trouble to me 
 if I cannot tell whether to address my reply to 
 Mrs. Hopkins, of Rupert- street, or Mrs. Hoskins, 
 of Robert- street ; but a much greater trouble it 
 is, after having written to both these addresses, to 
 
WITH HIS FAIR FRIENDS. 2?5 
 
 have another more legible communication from 
 the same lady : " Mrs. Hawkes, of Regent-street, 
 with her compliments to Mr. Humphrey, begs to 
 inform him that, in consequence of not hearing 
 from him, she has engaged another servant." 
 
 One of the many useful rules to be observed by 
 those who copy for the press is this, to write all 
 proper names, technical words, and words in a 
 foreign language, lawyer fashion ; that is, so 
 distinctly that no printer can possibly mistake 
 one letter for another. A month's practice in 
 writing for the press would be of incalculable ad- 
 vantage to many agreeable persons of my acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 The want of thought in withholding necessary 
 information, and the habit of sending letters with- 
 out the address of the writer, is another error, on 
 which I will venture a few remarks. 
 
 A letter is delivered to me by the postman, at 
 nine in the morning, from a country cousin, re- 
 siding in a village in the neighbourhood of Bath. 
 It communicates the intelligence that she hopes 
 to arrive in London on that day, on a visit to a 
 friend, and requests me to be sure to meet her at 
 the railroad terminus ; but mentions neither the 
 station, the time of her departure, nor the hour of 
 her arrival. Taking it for granted that she will 
 come from Bath, and by the first train, I hurry 
 
276 OLD HUMPHREY'S REMONSTRANCE 
 
 off at ten o'clock, by cab, to Paddington, a dis- 
 tance of about five statute miles from my abode ; 
 where, owing to the late arrival of the train, I am 
 detained from eleven o'clock till near twelve. My 
 cousin does not come. There being no other 
 train due till ten minutes past one, I look about 
 me for a time, and then seat myself in the waiting- 
 room. The train duly arrives, but brings no 
 cousin of mine. Having an appointment at five 
 o'clock, I am not enabled to be at the station then, 
 though a train will arrive there ; but I fail not to 
 meet the train due at forty minutes past six, and 
 at a quarter-past eight ; yet am I as unsuccessful 
 as before. Nearly the whole of the day has been 
 lost. The next morning brings me a letter from 
 my cousin, bearing the Notting-hill post-mark, 
 telling me, that never in her life had she been so 
 much disappointed ; for that when she arrived at 
 the Paddington Station, at five o'clock, the evening 
 before, there was no one to meet her. She really 
 thought that she might have depended on me, and 
 regrets to find that I had considered it too much 
 trouble to render her the slight service of coming 
 a mile or two to meet her on her arrival. By way 
 of postcript, she requires a line by return of post, 
 to inform her at what hour that afternoon I will 
 call upon her, to take her to the Colosseum, and 
 on no account whatever to disappoint her. 
 
WITH HIS FAIR FRIENDS, 277 
 
 With no small anxiety to relieve myself from 
 the charge of neglect, and desirous to show that a 
 little thoughtfulness, on the part of my cousin, 
 would have prevented our mutual discomfort, i 
 snatch up my pen to explain, using the utmost 
 dispatch, that the servant, about to leave the 
 house, may post the letter, and that my cousin 
 may not again he disappointed. My letter writ- 
 ten, I hastily enclose it in an envelope, and pur- 
 pose to direct it, referring to my cousin's note for 
 her address, when, to my extreme consternation, 
 I find that she has thoughtlessly omitted to give 
 It me ; the only address in her note is, " Friday 
 friorning." What is to he done? I know no 
 Jnore where to find her than I do the missing pla- 
 net. True it is, that a month ago she mentioned 
 in a letter her intention of visiting a friend at 
 Notting-hill ; but where that letter is, I cannot 
 tell. No doubt it is safely put by ; but then I 
 have five hundred letters put by, so that I know 
 not where to look for it at the moment. I 
 examine my pocketbook, my writing-desk, and the 
 packets on my study table, but in vain. The ser- 
 vant is not enabled to post my letter, and I am 
 compelled to sit me down with the unenviable 
 certainty of receiving another accusatory letter 
 from my cousin. 
 
 Twenty times have I been placed in somewhat 
 2 B 
 
278 OLD HUMPHREY'S REMONSTRANCE 
 
 the same difficulties. Now, ought these things to 
 be allowed, when they might so easily be avoided ? 
 A little thoughtful consideration, and a few strokes 
 of the pen, would have prevented the disappoint- 
 ment of my cousin, and have spared me the mor- 
 tification of being unjustly accused of unkindness. 
 Do, my fair friends, add to your other good qua- 
 lities that of consideration. Impart what intelli- 
 gence is necessary, and when you write a letter, or 
 note, never omit your address. 
 
 A third error on which I would gently expos- 
 tulate is, the inconsideration of taking up the 
 time of others thoughtlessly. I have a good 
 friend, worth, as the saying is, her weight in gold ; 
 and to give her pleasure is adding to my own, for 
 nothing can exceed her kindness but her want of 
 consideration. Attentive, however, as she is to 
 me, it is a formidable thing to become her guest ; 
 for if a consultation is to be held, a plan to be 
 drawn out, or a passage in a book to be found, she 
 is sure to apply to me, and the reason assigned is, 
 " Mr. Humphrey is so ready." Is an attempt to 
 be made to get a boy into Christ's Hospital, or a 
 young woman into the Blind Asylum ; or is a 
 poor cottager to be visited, whatever may be the 
 distance the case is at once handed over to me. 
 " Mr. Humphrey is so kind." And is a packet 
 of family papers to be looked over, a book of 
 
WITH HIS FAIR FEIENDS. 279 
 
 prints to be carefully examined, or a dozen stanzas 
 to be written on the birthday of one of her ac- 
 quaintance ; again I am in requisition. " No one 
 will do it so well as Mr. Humphrey ; he is so 
 clever." In this way, because I have credit with 
 her for being ready, kind, and clever, she would 
 occupy the whole of my waking hours. The good 
 friend of whom I speak is not a solitary example ; 
 she is one only of a class, and that class is by no 
 means a circumscribed one. Few things are more 
 agreeable than to be able to show attentions to 
 those we respect ; but a little consideration should 
 be exercised in requiring these attentions. There 
 are seasons with most of us when even moments 
 can ill be spared ; and it should never be for- 
 gotten that scraps of time, frequently demanded, 
 soon amount to important periods. Even the 
 taking away of our attention, for a few minutes, 
 from the pursuit that occupies us, will sometimes 
 occasion us the loss of hours. 
 
 This want of consideration in occupying the 
 time of others thoughtlessly, or unreasonably, 
 shows itself in different ways ; one singular in- 
 stance of this I will here give. A lady of my 
 acquaintance greatly neutralizes her many excel- 
 lent qualifications by a habit of extracting from 
 the remarks of those around her, opportunities of 
 contributing to her own advantage ; in doing 
 
280 OLD HUMPHREY'S REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 this, she is not at all aware of the incessant 
 penalties she imposes on her friends. For my 
 own part, I am especially careful to lay my 
 finger on my lips when in her presence, lest un- 
 advisedly I should get entangled with a multi- 
 plicity of unenviable undertakings. Let us 
 imagine our fair friend in a party, when a gen- 
 tleman remarks that he has just received a copy 
 of the " Rugby Prize Poem." She immediately 
 expresses her desire that he would oblige her by 
 writing it out for her, being exceedingly fond of 
 poetry. Of course this is assented to. Another 
 gentlemen unwittingly states his intention to a 
 young lady present, to drive her to see the India 
 Overland Diorama. Our fair friend directly ob- 
 serves, it will be a great favour if she may be per- 
 mitted to accompany them ; that is, if he will not 
 consider it too much trouble to drive round for her. 
 The gentleman, with visible reluctance, stammers 
 out something about his being happy to do so ; 
 and when a third gentleman alludes to his trip to 
 Brighton on the following day, she inquires 
 whether she might take the liberty of asking him 
 to deliver a small packet to a friend of hers, who 
 lives very little more than half a mile from the 
 terminus. 
 
 As the most circumspect are now and then off 
 their guard, so the kindest are at times uniiiten- 
 
WITH HIS FAIR FRIENDS. 281 
 
 tionally cruel by their inconsiderate demands on 
 the time of others. I hope, then, that my pre- 
 sent friendly remonstrance will neither be con- 
 sidered unreasonable nor uncalled for. Hardly 
 should I like to be outdone by any one in 
 courtesy and kindheartedness ; but if, as fellow- 
 pilgrims, we do not point out each other's 
 failings, what probability is there of being cor- 
 rected ? How gladly, instead of censuring my 
 fair friends, would I scatter roses in their earthly 
 paths, and help them on their way to heaven ! 
 
 Believing, as I do, that thoughtlessness, or 
 inconsideration, is one of the commonest failings 
 of humanity, and that it occasions at least one 
 half of the troubles we bring on each other, I 
 am anxious to impress on my own heart, and on 
 the hearts of others, this self-evident but sadly 
 neglected truth. There are other people in the 
 world besides ourselves, and unless we consider 
 their convenience, comfort, and pleasures, we 
 cannot reasonably expect them to consider ours. 
 If we do not act under this impression, we may 
 go on unintentionally trespassing on those we 
 respect, and afflicting those we love all the days 
 of our lives. 
 
 I cannot but hope, that as these remarks are 
 made in a friendly spirit, they will be received 
 considerately and kindly. With heaven in pro- 
 2 B 2 
 
282 OLD HUMPHREY'S REMONSTRANCE, ETC. 
 
 spect, and the word of God in our hands, we 
 ought to have much of love and forbearance in 
 our hearts, reproving, helping, and encouraging 
 one another. 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 
 
 A WORD or two with my readers on the sub- 
 ject of great works. By great works I do not 
 mean such things as poems, paintings, or statues, 
 executed by great masters, but rather works of 
 great magnitude in themselves, and which have 
 required lofty genius, unwonted boldness, and 
 unwearied perseverance to plan, prosecute, and 
 complete them. Things exceedingly simple on a 
 small scale, deeply impress the mind when on a 
 large one. To bale water with the hand, to span 
 with the fingers, and to weigh with a balance, are 
 all common occurrences ; but when we read in 
 Holy Writ of the Almighty measuring " the 
 waters in the hollow of his hand/' meting out 
 " heaven with the span," comprehending " the 
 dust of the earth in a measure," and weighing 
 " the mountains in scales and the hills in a 
 balance," we are struck with awe and wonder. 
 These things are so far beyond our common 
 conceptions that we are lost in admiration of the 
 power of the Eternal. 
 
 The pyramids of Egypt, which have stood for 
 
284 ON GREAT WORKS. 
 
 thousands of years, are great works, and well 
 they may be, if what Herodotus tells us be true, 
 that a hundred thousand men were employed for 
 thirty years, without intermission, in preparing 
 the materials and constructing the work. When 
 Bonaparte was about to attack the Mamelukes, 
 he told his soldiers that forty ages were looking 
 down upon them from the summits of the 
 Pyramids. 
 
 The Chinese Wall is a great work, bounding, 
 as it does, the whole north of China, along the 
 frontiers of three provinces, crossing rivers, 
 descending valleys, and ascending the highest 
 hills, one ridge being five thousand feet above the 
 level of the sea. The thickness of the wall at 
 the base is twenty-five feet, the height is twenty 
 feet, and the height of the towers are thirty- 
 seven feet. 
 
 St. Peter's, at Rome, is a great work, which 
 occupied much more than a hundred years in its 
 erection during the reigns of nineteen popes. 
 Twelve successive architects were employed. Its 
 great extent, its wondrous height, its grand 
 colonnade, dome, chapels, pillars, porticoes, 
 paintings, and statues excite the astonishment of 
 the beholder. They tell me the great toe of the 
 bronze statue of St. Peter is almost kissed away 
 by the lips of those who have bowed down to it. 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 285 
 
 What shall we say to these things ? Let us leave 
 the statue of St. Peter, and turn to the words of 
 the 95th Psalm : " O come, let us worship and 
 bow down ; let us kneel before the Lord our 
 Maker. For he is our jod; and we are the 
 people of his pasture, and the sheep of his 
 hand." 
 
 In our own country the Roman wall was a great 
 work, whether we speak of the vallum, or earth- 
 and-stake barrier, of Hadrian and Severus, with 
 its stone bulwarks and towers, or of the Picts' 
 wall of stone, supposed to be built when the Ro- 
 mans were about to leave Britain. This work of 
 defence, to repress the Picts and Scots, stretched 
 out from the Frith of Solway to the Tyne. Au 
 interesting account of a pilgrimage along the wall 
 was lately published, entitled " A History of the 
 Picts or Romano-British Wall ;" and as I happen 
 to have passed along the wall myself from Carlisle 
 to Newcastle, I have read the book with much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Many of our railroads and bridges are great 
 works, when we take into consideration their 
 magnitude and the difficulties to be surmounted 
 in their formation. The greatest work above 
 ground in our great city of London is that of St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, built by Sir Christopher Wren. 
 It was completed in thirty-five years, at an ex* 
 
28G ON GREAT WORKS. 
 
 pense of a million and a half of money. And the 
 greatest work under ground is assuredly that of 
 the Thames Tunnel, through which so many have 
 passed with admiration and wonder. It was 
 begun in the year 1824, and completed in 1843. 
 
 To form an excavation nearly forty feet in 
 breadth, and more than twenty-two feet in height, 
 through a bed of clay, which had a quicksand 
 just below it, and a mighty river running just 
 above it, was an enterprise of a hazardous kind, 
 and few beside Sir Marc Isambard Brunei would 
 have had the hardihood to attempt it. Twice the 
 water of the river broke into the works, in spite 
 of the scientific iron shield which had been used 
 to prevent it. Perseverance, however, overcame 
 all obstacles, and the undertaking was crowned 
 with success. 
 
 My readers are doubtless aware that Sir Marc 
 Isambard Brunei has been called away from the 
 world, and that the public journals have been 
 eloquent in his praise. I have a little to say of 
 him myself, but it will not be the echo of what 
 has been already said by others. 
 
 Such is the rapid flight of time, that it seems 
 but as yesterday when I first saw him in his 
 tunnel, then only in part completed, standing, 
 hat in hand, describing in French, with a simple 
 and graceful courtesy, seemingly natural to him, 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 287 
 
 the design and progress of his great work to the 
 archduchess Helene, sister to the emperor of all 
 the Russias. So soon as he was left alone, I 
 joined him, and was much gratified with his open- 
 ness and affability. 
 
 Few that saw Sir Marc in March, 1843, when 
 the stupendous and commodious passage that he 
 had made under the earth and the running waters 
 was opened to a wondering and admiring public, 
 could forget him. It was, indeed, with him a 
 high day and a holiday, and the conscious joy of 
 his heart was made manifest by the beaming ex- 
 ultation on his brow. What weary days and 
 anxious nights he had passed ! what disappoint- 
 ments had he endured ! and what almost insur- 
 mountable obstacles had he overcome! Who 
 would wantonly have robbed him of that short- 
 lived revel ? Who would willingly have deprived 
 him of that happy hour ? 
 
 On the occasion to which I have referred, the 
 following animated notice appeared in one of our 
 daily journals : " We have received a medal 
 struck in honour of Sir Marc Isambard Brunei, a 
 slight, but grateful tribute to the gigantic energy 
 and genius of that Napoleon of engineers. The 
 likeness is faithful, and the mixture well preserved 
 of that profound intellect and magnanimous daring 
 which characterise the countenance of one whose 
 
288 ON GREAT WOEKS. 
 
 forte, it has been well said, seems the ' accom- 
 plishment of impossibilities.' The medal is 
 worthy of its subject, and commemorates the 
 successful termination of the colossal undertaking 
 with which Brunei's name will be handed down 
 to posterity." 
 
 But, independently of his acknowledged genius, 
 in the animated sketches of a mutual friend, who 
 had known and loved him for half a century, Sir 
 Marc was depicted to me as one of the most ex- 
 cellent and amiable of mankind. Benevolent and 
 affectionate, ever generously anxious to do justice 
 to the merits of all around ; of universal talent, 
 playful wit, and kindly humour, endeared by ten- 
 derness, a truly childlike simplicity, and unaf- 
 fected piety ; no wonder that I listened with 
 glowing interest to the striking details of his 
 diversified and eventful life, from the time of his 
 escape from the horrors of the French Revolution 
 in 1/93, to the completion of his great work, the 
 Thames Tunnel. No wonder that I " drank in 
 with greedy ear" the beautiful romance of his 
 early attachment to the estimable object to whose 
 energetic and devoted constancy he was ever wont 
 to refer his establishment in England, and all he 
 had there achieved. With her, a month before 
 his death, he had completed a happy union of 
 fifty years. With his hand clasped in that of his 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 289 
 
 devoted lady, and with his beloved children around 
 him, he sunk to rest with the sweet calm that 
 marks an infant's sleep. 
 
 Like most men of eminence, he had frequent 
 applications for his autograph ; and it is a beau- 
 tiful fact that in the latter years of his life he 
 seldom gave it without the accompaniment of the 
 following favourite passage from the life of Sir 
 Christopher Wren, " If I glory in aught, it is in 
 the singular mercy of my God, who has enabled 
 me to begin and finish my great work." How 
 amiable is humility! How lovely is piety! With- 
 out them the most inestimable parts are compa- 
 ratively valueless : 
 
 Oh would that gifted men of lofty powers 
 
 Were meekly moved, through all their earthly hours, 
 
 To seek less ardently for human praise, 
 
 And glorify their God in all their ways ! 
 
 On the morning of Sir Marc's funeral, owing to 
 some delay in the necessary information commu- 
 nicated to me, I arrived not at Kensal-green till 
 the solemn service was over. The mourners had 
 left the cemetery, though the hearse and horses 
 were still there, 
 
 " In sable sadness, and with shadowy plumes." 
 
 I hastened to the grave ; it was partly filled in ; 
 
 but the men very willingly, at my request, threw 
 
 2 c 
 
290 ON GREAT WORKS. 
 
 back the soil till they came again to the coffin- 
 plate, that I might see and read it : 
 
 "Sir 
 
 Marc Isambard Brunei. 
 Born April 25th, 
 
 1769; 
 
 Died December 12th, 
 1849.' 
 
 There came one hurrying along the gravel- 
 walk while I was watching the removal of the 
 soil. " Ah," said he, looking into the grave, 
 " he was a good man ! He was good to his 
 workmen!" " I believe he was good to every- 
 body," said I. "Yes, sir," said he, "but I 
 speak feelingly with regard to myself, for many 
 is the penny, and many is the pound, that I have 
 had of his money." " Are you from the Thames 
 Tunnel?" said I. "I am, sir," was his reply, 
 " and should have been in time for the funeral 
 if I had not been hindered. No time have I lost 
 in hastening here ; and glad am I that I have seen 
 his coffin-plate." Thus it is that kindly qualities 
 bind us to those who possess them, not only 
 through life, but when they lie in the grave. 
 
 There was an elderly female in black, of some 
 threescore years, perhaps, lingering at the grave 
 a poor woman, but well-spoken, and evidently 
 hetter brought up than her appearance indicated. 
 She seemed much interested, and spoke of all who 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 291 
 
 iad attended the funeral, particularly the little 
 grandson. Very likely she had been a domestic 
 in the family in former years. 
 
 The brink of the grave is a suitable place for 
 reflection ; and happy is he who, while pondering 
 on the sentence of death passed on man, " Dust 
 thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," is able 
 to say in the fulness of belief and the exultation 
 of faith, " I know that my Redeemer liveth, and 
 that he shall stand at the latter day upon the 
 earth ; and though after my skin worms destroy 
 this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God," Job 
 xix. 25, 26. 
 
 As I walked away from the cemetery, the gar- 
 den of death, I thought awhile of the high endow- 
 ments of the deceased, and of the renown he had 
 acquired in the different departments of science ; 
 but what were these compared to the well-grounded 
 hope of an eternal life ? I had in my pocket an 
 epitaph, written by an affectionate and talented 
 friend of Sir Marc, of which the following lines 
 are a copy : 
 
 " Hark ! 'tis a nation's voice to speak his fame ; 
 From Portsmouth, Chatham, Rotherhithe it came; 
 While many an humbler note will rise to tell 
 Of the dear friend, the good, the kind Brunei ! 
 
 The ' child-like sage !' who waved his honours meet, 
 And, as an infant, sat at Jesus' feet." 
 
 But how utterly insufficient and inappropriate for 
 
292 ON GREAT WORKS. 
 
 the tomb would have been this friendly and affec- 
 tionate record of success and earthly honours, 
 save for the concluding hope that all was laid at 
 His feet, who will " beautify the meek with sal- 
 vation," and make them shine as the stars in 
 heaven. 
 
 But now having dwelt for a time on the great 
 works of man, let me turn to the greater works 
 of his Almighty Maker. The works which I have 
 mentioned are great only when compared with the 
 lesser works of man ; but how inconceivably small 
 are they in comparison, when contrasted with the 
 mightier works of Him who sitteth upon the 
 throne of heaven ? " Behold, the nations are as 
 a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small 
 dust of the balance : behold, he taketh up the 
 isles as a very little thing. Lebanon is not suf- 
 ficient to burn, nor the beasts thereof sufficient 
 for a burnt offering. All nations before him are 
 as nothing ; and they are counted to him less than 
 nothing, and vanity," Isa. xl. 15, 17. 
 
 When we read in holy writ, " In the beginning 
 God created the heaven and the earth," Gen. i. 1 ; 
 " All Scripture is given by inspiration of God," 
 2 Tim. iii. 16 ; and " Christ Jesus came into the 
 world to save sinners," 1 Tim. i. 15 ; or, in other 
 words, when we ponder on the three great works 
 of the King of kings and Lord of lords the 
 
ON GREAT WORKS. 293 
 
 work of creation, the work of revelation, and 
 the work of redemption, well may we humble 
 ourselves in dust and ashes before him : 
 
 Well may the holiest angel feel 
 An awful fear around him steal ; 
 And highest seraph, when he sings, 
 Conceal his face with folded wings. 
 
 " Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised ; 
 and his greatness is unsearchable." " Great is 
 our Lord, and of great power ; his understanding 
 is infinite." " O Lord our Lord, how excellent is 
 thy name in all the earth!" "Let every thing 
 that hath breath praise the Lord," Psa. cl. 6. 
 
 2 c 2 
 
A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A 
 LAME FOOT. 
 
 HE that has carried here and there with him 
 a lame foot for twelve months, may well be in- 
 dulged in a little gossip about it ; for either he 
 must be very backward in turning opportunities 
 to profit, or he must have something to narrate 
 not altogether undeserving of attention. A certain 
 surgeon used to say that he knew comparatively 
 but little about fractured limbs, till he broke his 
 own leg ; and I promise my reader, that should 
 he ever meet with an accident as severe as that of 
 my sprained ankle, he will soon know many things 
 much better than he knew them before. 
 
 It is wonderful how an affliction quickens our 
 sensibilities in regard to visitations of the same 
 kind. I am much more familiar than I was a 
 year ago with the account of Jacob halting on his 
 thigh ; the great supper to which the poor, and 
 the maimed, and the halt, and the blind were 
 invited, and that declaration of the Redeemer, 
 "It is better for thee to enter into life halt, or 
 maimed, rather than having two hands or two 
 
 
A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 295 
 
 feet to be cast into everlasting fire.*' A man who 
 can run like an antelope may find some interest 
 in reading about Mephibosbeth, the son of Saul, 
 who was " lame of his feet ;" but let him meet 
 with an accident that for a time makes a cripple 
 of him, and he will read the same account with 
 ten times more interest than before. He can 
 hear, with pleasure, of Job being " a father to the 
 poor ;" but it comes much more home to his 
 heart when he reads that he was " eyes to the 
 blind, and feet to the lame." 
 
 Again and again have I found myself turning 
 over the leaves of my Bible to that interesting 
 chapter, the third of the Acts, in which Peter is 
 described healing the lame man at the gate of 
 the temple called Beautiful : " He took him by 
 the right hand, and lifted him up : and imme- 
 diately his feet and ankle bones received strength." 
 The amazement of the poor grateful cripple, when 
 he found he could walk, must have been great, 
 for he was not satisfied with walking, he must 
 needs leap ; nor was he content with leaping with- 
 out giving thanks ; so that in the wildness of his 
 delight he "entered with them into the temple, 
 walking, and leaping, and praising Gocrr^ This 
 is a beautiful picture to any one ; but to a lame 
 man it is something more. 
 
 Nor is it in reading God's word alone that my 
 
296 A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 
 
 mind is influenced by my body's infirmity. In 
 taking up " Pilgrim's Progress," as I oftentimes 
 do, I am sure, after reading of Christian, Chris- 
 tiana, Greatheart, Mr. Honest, or Mr. Feeblemind, 
 as the case may be, to steal a peep at the picture 
 of Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his crutches, and to 
 linger on the words of the good man when he 
 comes to the brink of the river, " Now I shall 
 have no more need of these crutches, since yonder 
 are chariots and horses for me to ride on." 
 
 "Whether as regards the opening of our eyes to 
 our own mercies, or the opening of our hearts 
 to other's trials, it is a good thing to be acquainted 
 with affliction. I may add also a blessed know- 
 ledge it is to know, and a blessed conviction it is 
 to feel that " all things work together for good to 
 them that love God, to them who are the called 
 according to his purpose," Rom. viii. 28. 
 
 Among my many mercies, I cannot be too 
 thankful for a disposition that can be cheerful 
 under affliction. Though very susceptible, I am 
 of the true camomile kind ; however much trodden 
 down, I soon spring up again. 
 
 It happened that when my accident took place, 
 I was engaged to dine the next day with a party 
 of friends, and I felt determined in my mind to 
 keep my appointment. Even in the midst of my 
 agony, I indulged in a momentary playfulness and 
 
A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 297 
 
 humour, repeating to myself the verse in the 
 ballad of " Chevy Chase :" 
 
 " And Withrington I needs must wail, 
 
 As one in doleful dumps; 
 for when his legs were smitten off, 
 He fought upon his stumps ; " 
 
 inwardly resolving that if Old Humphrey could 
 not join his friends on two legs, he would hobble 
 among them on one. "Oh!'* said Mr. Proud- 
 heart, " I will pull my boot on yet." Pull my 
 boot on, indeed ; why, when the morrow morning 
 came, I might as well have tried to pull my boot 
 over my head as over my heel. Never have I 
 drawn a boot on since, though I feel confident that 
 I shall yet do so. Yes, lame as I am, I believe 
 that I shall yet leap like a hart 1 
 
 On crossing the street at the north-east corner 
 of St. Paul's Churchyard, and where the black 
 man who was picked up there by the Nepaul 
 minister used to sweep the crossing, I was in some 
 jeopardy from an omnibus, which had wellnigh 
 reached me ; when, in the moment of my peril, I 
 felt a young man's sustaining hand under my arm, 
 so that I was as it were wafted onward, and set, 
 high and dry, on the opposite footpath, while the 
 lumbering omnibus rattled past me. This was a 
 kind act ; but the young man who had rendered 
 
298 A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 
 
 me this service did not so much as pause to 
 receive my acknowledgments. 
 
 Not many yards further had I proceeded, when, 
 just as I was about to cross the end of Paternoster, 
 row, a cabman, who was driving along at a rapid 
 pace, reined up his horse, crying out, " Take your 
 time, sir ! take your time !" This was very civil 
 of the cabman ; I nodded him my thanks, and 
 passed on. 
 
 In Warwick-lane, leading from Paternoster-row 
 to Newgate-street, the footpath on one side is very 
 narrow. This strait path, this Pass of Thermo- 
 polse, was not occupied by Leonidas, but by a 
 bold butcher, who, with his back towards me, was 
 talking with a fish-woman. In as gentle a man- 
 ner as possible I touched the elbow of the 
 butcher, as much as to say, " Friend, have the 
 goodness to make way for a lame man ;" but the 
 man in the blue linsey, without so much as mov- 
 ing an inch, turned his face to me with so fierce 
 an expression, that I was somewhat apprehensive 
 of his using his clenched fist. Observing, how- 
 ever, nothing very warlike in my appearance, he 
 favoured me with a glance from top to toe, when 
 no sooner did he see my lame ankle, than he 
 skipped out of the path with all the agility of a 
 harlequin. This was humane in the butcher, and 
 
A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 299 
 
 I failed not to let him know my opinion. You 
 see, then, the strength of weakness ; or, in other 
 words, the power of a sprained ankle ; for it had, 
 in my case, called forth kindness from the passing 
 stranger, extracted civility from a cabman, and 
 humanized the heart of a butcher. 
 
 The other day, after having spent a few agree- 
 able hours with a party of Christian friends, on 
 descending the flight of steps from the large room 
 in which we had been assembled, I was assisted 
 by one wellnigh as lame as myself. " Why," 
 said I, " if we are noticed, we shall have our pic- 
 tures taken !" I am not aware, after all, that a 
 man, whether lame or blessed with the free use 
 of his legs, could have his likeness taken in a 
 better attitude than that of assisting an afflicted 
 brother. 
 
 As I was riding along Cornhill in an omnibus, 
 a gentleman, with much decision in his counte- 
 nance, who was a cripple, became a passenger. I 
 took hold of his crutches, that he might enter the 
 vehicle more easily, and gave up to him my seat 
 by the door. In personal kindness, as well as in 
 alms, "it is more blessed to give than to re- 
 ceive." 
 
 " I hope, sir," said I, by way of beginning a 
 conversation, " that your infirmity, like my own, 
 will be only temporary. My lameness is nine 
 
300 A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 
 
 or ten months old ; but yours may 'be of a longer 
 standing." 
 
 " Mine, sir," said he, " is more than as many 
 years ; but I am still hopeful. My lameness pro- 
 ceeds from a decayed part of a bone in my thigh, 
 and I am now on my way to consult a friend on 
 the propriety of having an operation performed." 
 
 " I trust, sir," replied I, " by your demeanour, 
 that you are looking forward with steadiness and 
 courage to whatever may be required of you." 
 
 " Oh yes," said he, " I am not at all afraid. 
 The operation will be attended with little or no 
 pain ; and if my surgeon recommends me to lose 
 the limb, it shall come off at once. If he says I 
 ought to take chloroform, I will take it; if he 
 says I ought not, I will not. The fine weather is 
 coming on now, and as I shall have, I suppose, to 
 lie in bed some time, the sooner it is done the 
 better." 
 
 "Will you allow me, sir," said I, " as a lover 
 of truth, and an observer of mankind, to speak 
 freely with you? I never see a quality that I 
 estimate highly, without being anxious to discover 
 the germ from which it springs. You appear to 
 be possessed of great resolution ; may I ask you 
 whence it proceeds? Some time ago I was in 
 company with a Christian man who was about to 
 lose his foot. Though apparently a retired and 
 
A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 301 
 
 timid character, he was as calm, as collected, and 
 seemingly as free from fear as you are. As a 
 pious man; he looked confidingly to his heavenly 
 Father for support in his hour of trial, and found 
 it, so much so that his surgeons were astonished 
 at his steadiness and composure. Tell me, then, 
 sir, does your courage and steadiness proceed from 
 confidence in your heavenly Father, or from the 
 natural stamina of your constitution, and the force 
 and decision of your character?" 
 
 " I know what you mean, sir," said he, rather 
 quickly ; " I believe in God ; but my resolution 
 springs from my own heart. I have hitherto 
 always been equal to every exigency, and doubt 
 not that it will always be the same." 
 
 I ventured mildly to suggest that he was in- 
 debted to his heavenly Father for the natural 
 courage of his heart, as much as he of whom I 
 had spoken had been for strength in the hour of 
 trial, and expressed my ardent hope that, should 
 he be called on to suffer, the same merciful and 
 almighty support would be extended to him. 
 Should these remarks, by any accidental circum- 
 stance, ever meet" his eye, though they will remind 
 him of his conversation with a stranger, they 
 cannot make known to him half the affectionate 
 sympathy his affliction awakened in my mind. 
 
 I might go on thus for an hour, relating occur- 
 2 D 
 
302 A LITTLE GOSSIP ABOUT A LAME FOOT. 
 
 rences connected closely or remotely with my 
 sprained ankle ; but enough has been said to fur- 
 nish you with another illustration of this tripartite 
 truth, that affliction is oftentimes a blessing to 
 ourselves, that it greatly excites our sympathy 
 towards our fellow-sufferers, and that it may be 
 borne not only with patience, but also with thank- 
 fulness and praise. 
 
THE MUFFLED KNOCKER. 
 
 Do you see that muffled knocker ? I observed 
 it last week, and the week before ; it is tied up 
 with an old black glove. When I first passed by 
 it, a servant knocked at the door ; it gave a low 
 dull sound that fell on the ear drearily. 
 
 A muffled knocker, silent as it is, tells a tale 
 that finds its way to the heart. Sometimes it is 
 of an infant, who having just entered the world, 
 is about to leave it. Sometimes of a child 
 brought home from school with a parched lip, a 
 blood-shot eye, a beating heart, and a rapid 
 pulse with fever. 
 
 At other times it is of a husband, whose hag- 
 gard eye is fixed on his wife, and babes about to 
 be left to a cold-hearted world. Well ! " A 
 Father of the fatherless and a Judge of the 
 widows is God in his holy habitation." 
 
 But it is not of a babe, nor a schoolboy, nor 
 of a husband in his prime, that the muffled 
 knocker yonder speaks ; Abram Ball has not 
 only passed threescore years and ten in the 
 world, but, by reason of strength, completed 
 fourscore. 
 
304 THE MUFFLED KNOCKER. 
 
 They say that Abram Ball is on his death-bed, 
 and yet that he is covetous of life. What a 
 picture is that of an old man and death wrestling 
 for a few grains of sand ! It was on the Monday 
 of the week before last that a servant went from 
 the house in haste for Mr. Cope, the surgeon and 
 apothecary, and soon after Dr. Downes, the 
 physician, drew up in his carriage. The very 
 next day the knocker was tied up, and ever since 
 then a boy in livery has made an afternoon call 
 with draughts, and pills, and potions. 
 
 More people have called at that house the last 
 fortnight than ever called at it before in a month 
 during the time that Abram Ball has lived there. 
 Every one treads lightly on the step, lifts up the 
 knocker slowly, and lets it fall again so gently 
 that no one answers the door until the knocking 
 has been repeated. What is said at the door is 
 said in a whisper. 
 
 The old gentleman, they say, is worth a mint 
 of money, and not a few are looking forward to a 
 share of it. But Abram will not part with a six- 
 pence while he can keep it in his clutches. 
 Happy for Abram had he attended to the words, 
 " Better is a little with the fear of the Lord, than 
 great treasure and trouble therewith." He has 
 got the treasure and the trouble too. His over- 
 flowing bags will not give him the breath that he 
 
THE MUFFLED KNOCKER. 305 
 
 pants for in vain ; they will not ease the anguish 
 he endures, and, more than all, they will not 
 yield him peace at the last. 
 
 Nurse Simmons is in attendance, and I cannot 
 look at the muffled knocker without thinking of 
 drawn curtains, and cautious treading, and gruel, 
 and labelled vials, and teacups with teaspoons 
 in them stained with medicine. Then I think, 
 too, of the wearisome hours of night, the flicker- 
 ing lamp, the dim rushlight, the hard breathing 
 and low moan of the patient, and the undisguised 
 yawn of nurse Simmons. 
 
 See ! a man carrying a bed-rest has just 
 stopped at the door, and asked a lad to rap for 
 him. There he goes in with the bed-rest. The 
 door is closed ; but the muffled knocker goes on 
 with the tale. It tells me of racking pain of 
 gasping agony. 
 
 With God's presence, sickness and pain may 
 be borne, but Abram Ball has no such cordial. 
 He cannot say "I know, O Lord, that thy 
 judgments are right, and that thou in faithful- 
 ness hast afflicted me." Nor, " Father, if thou 
 be willing, remove this cup from me : neverthe- 
 less not my will, but thine be done." 
 
 Yesterday Andrews, the attorney, was at the 
 house : had there been any hope, Abram Ball 
 would never have made his will. He has made 
 2 D 2 
 
306 THE MUFFLED KNOCEEE. 
 
 money his god, and clings closely to it ; but what 
 can it do for him ? That muffled knocker seems 
 to set before me the lawyer reading the will, and 
 the pale-faced, terror-struck old man, propped up 
 in his bed, signing it with a trembling hand. 
 Abram Ball has forgotten the Saviour all his life ; 
 how can he hope to be comforted in his death ? 
 
 Surely that is a clergyman. Nay, then it must 
 be almost all over with Abram Ball. I hardly 
 think he would have sent for him till his dying 
 hour had arrived. The muffled knocker now sets 
 forth another scene. Friends and domestics are 
 crowding round the bed. The minister sees there 
 is no time to lose ; he declares at once that Jesus 
 Christ is the only hope for a sinner: " There is 
 none other name under heaven given among men, 
 whereby we must be saved ;" and " He is able," 
 even at the eleventh hour, " to save them to the 
 uttermost that come unto God by him." 
 
 I have observed several passers-by look up to 
 see whether or not the shutters are closed. They 
 then steal a glance at the muffled knocker, and 
 move on, wondering that Abram Ball is yet alive. 
 
 Look ! the minister is leaving the house. Ah, 
 then, I was wrong, he was too late ; the messenger 
 of death tarried not, and Abram Ball has died, 
 I fear, without consolation and without hope. 
 What has gold done for him? It has been a 
 
THE MUFFLED KNOCKER. #07 
 
 curse rather than a blessing. When an old man 
 leaves the world in despair, his death cries aloud 
 to the young, " Remember thy Creator in the 
 days of thy youth." That muffled knocker speaks 
 of solemn things. 
 
 Yonder is the doctor's carriage. Now we shall 
 see whether it is all over with Abram Ball. The 
 doctor has rapped at the door, and driven away 
 without going in; Abram Ball is a breathless 
 corpse, and the muffled knocker seems to ask the 
 question, "Where is he?" Where is his im- 
 mortal soul ? 
 
 The blinds are lowered, and the shutters are 
 half raised, but the inmates of the house of death 
 are too busy to untie the muffled knocker. There 
 it is ; the black knocker with the old glove tied 
 round it appeals to us all, silently yet plainly 
 setting forth the nothingness of worldly things, 
 the necessity of a preparation for death, and the 
 unspeakable advantages of a " good hope through 
 grace" of everlasting life, fixed on the Lamb of 
 God that taketh away the sins of the world. 
 
OLD HUMPHREY AMONG THE 
 NIGHTINGALES. 
 
 PLEASANT it is, whatever may be the advan- 
 tages of the crowded city, now and then to pack 
 up a few things in a portmanteau, to hasten to a 
 railroad station, and to hurry along by the train 
 to some rural retreat, where, in grateful repose 
 and quiet recreation, the mind can cast off for a 
 while its customary cares, recreate in sylvan 
 scenery, and recruit its enfeebled powers. Most 
 of us can call to mind favourite spots which have 
 yielded us pleasure ; most of us can say, 
 
 I know a bank where the primrose groweth; 
 
 A mountain rich with the heather bell ; 
 A peaceful vale, where the brooklet floweth, 
 
 And quiet thoughts and contentment dwell. 
 
 For my own part, my memory is redundant in 
 such localities, and I have latterly added another 
 to my list of pleasant places, rendered memorable 
 by kind hospitality, striking scenery, and agree- 
 able associations. My invitation to it was too 
 kind, too pressing, and too agreeable to be dis- 
 regarded ; and then I was assured that the place 
 
 
OLD HUMPHREY, ETC. 309 
 
 was a " nosegay of wild flowers," and a " bower 
 of nightingales." In giving a sketch of my little 
 holiday, I will try to be neither tedious nor 
 egotistical. Fain would I impart the fragrance 
 of the flowers I have gathered, and render my 
 reflections as suitable to my reader as to myself. 
 
 A kind friend who met me at the Waterloo 
 Station, as a guide and companion, entered with me 
 a carriage in the train about to depart, and soon 
 we were on our way. Surrey, bounded northward 
 by the Thames, and watered by the Mole, the 
 Wey, and the Wandle, has few arresting objects 
 in its natural scenery ; but a ride by railroad is 
 sure to present some attractions to a heart at ease. 
 The rapid motion, the changing scene, and the 
 character of the company, are enough of them- 
 selves to insure some degree of complacency. My 
 accompanying friend on my left was scientific and 
 talented; the stranger on my right, lady-like, 
 intellectual, and well-informed : with the latter I 
 was soon engaged in conversation. By turns we 
 dwelt on scenery, science, the electric telegraph, 
 disappointments, patience, geology, the Great Ex- 
 hibition, Claremont, and religious establishments; 
 and in two minutes more we should have been on 
 the very heights and in the very depths of Pusey- 
 ism and Popery ; but the stopping of the tram 
 severed the thread of an animated, and, to me* 
 
310 OLD HUMPHREY 
 
 interesting discourse, and the carriage that was in 
 waiting conveyed me and my friend to our agree- 
 able place of destination. 
 
 After crossing the Wey, the winding carriage- 
 drive from the road brought us to a lovely abode, on 
 a rising mound, with circular windows, verandahs, 
 and green-house, surrounded with lawns, miniature 
 lake, shrubberies, rosary, cedars, thorns, beeches, 
 silver-barked birches, tulip-trees, planes, rhodo- 
 dendrons, and a rich profusion of trees and plants. 
 In a ring fence, so to speak, of some dozen or 
 fifteen acres, there were two houses of this descrip- 
 tion, and a cottage, simply divided from each 
 other by an iron railing, or invisible fence, and 
 the whole domain so vocal with singing -birds, 
 and so abounding with floral beauties, from the 
 water-lilies of the lake to the clusters of self-sown 
 primroses, violets, and daffodils, that the place 
 fully bore out the description given me of its 
 being a nosegay of wild flowers and a bower of 
 nightingales. 
 
 In this sweetly secluded retreat I roamed at 
 will, now crossing the ivied bridge, now musing 
 at the secluded end of the flower-fringed lake, and 
 now rambling around the whole domain. We dined 
 alternately at the two houses mentioned ; it would 
 be difficult to say which has the most kind-hearted 
 hostess. The faithful and indefatigable voung 
 
AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES. 311 
 
 clergyman residing in the cottage usually joined 
 our assembled party, with his mother. All day 
 long the birds were singing, and when I awoke at 
 midnight, the vocal melody, though with dimi- 
 nished power, was still continued ; so that morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, Old Humphrey was literally 
 among the nightingales. 
 
 Each coming day had its enjoyments ; the 
 welcome breakfast, where peace and plenty pre- 
 sided ; the interesting reminiscences of my atten- 
 tive hostess ; the portfolio of drawings ; the 
 excursive converse of sultry India, mountainous 
 Wales, and romantic Derbyshire and Devonshire ; 
 the projected pic-nic; the brightening sky; the 
 singing birds ; and the quiet revelling of a grateful 
 heart, reviewing its manifold mercies. Say what 
 you will, it was not in one, but in many senses that 
 Old Humphrey was among the nightingales. 
 
 The pic-nic to St. George's Hills is not a thing 
 to be forgotten, for pleasurable were the elements 
 of which it was composed. The carriage-drive, 
 the visit to Spence's Point, the undulating and 
 elevated grounds, the deep passes and dells, the 
 pine-trees of all kinds, the ruddy brown of the 
 faded last year's fern, the green foliage of the 
 trees, the yellow furze, and the blue sky, all con- 
 tributed to our enjoyment. We roamed, divided, 
 and met again, as whim or inclination moved us ; 
 
312 OLD HUMPHREY 
 
 and fresh air and appetite gave an improved taste 
 to the lamb, eel-pie, and other dainties, that 
 formed our welcome repast. It was a season of 
 recreation, of joyous revelry, and heartfelt delight. 
 The birds sang around us ; but had there not 
 been a bird within a mile of the spot, it might 
 have been said in the very spirit, if not in the 
 letter of truth, " Old Humphrey is among the 
 nightingales." 
 
 Many were the calm enjoyments of my Surrey 
 visit ; nor was the season of domestic prayer and 
 praise at morn and even the least grateful among 
 them. It may be a hard thing to drag a lethargic 
 body and unwilling mind to a throne of grace ; 
 but it is not so when the heart is truly grateful, 
 for then the soul is ever ready to magnify the 
 Lord, and the spirit to rejoice in God our Saviour. 
 There is an uplifting, heart-sustaining influence 
 in prayer that balms the wounded, binds the 
 broken, and communicates an inward peace. I 
 would not speak irreverently ; but with regard to 
 the pleasures enjoyed by me in the devotional 
 exercises in which we engaged, it would hardly 
 be an inappropriate figure of speech to say that I 
 was, even then, among the nightingales. 
 
 As the narrow fountain plays high, so the occa- 
 sional is more intense than the continued gratifica- 
 tion. Pleasure soon palls upon us. We cannot 
 
AMONG THE NTGHTINGALKS. 313 
 
 be long happy without something to endure and 
 something to achieve. Few know how much they 
 are indebted to their duties, their occupation, and 
 their cares. Could we go where we choose, have 
 what we listed, and do what we pleased, it would 
 be to us a bar rather than a blessing. Our 
 heavenly Father is too merciful to leave us to 
 ourselves, to allow us to do as we like, and to be 
 our own masters. Pleasant as it is now and then 
 to turn our backs upon the city, it would never do 
 for us always to be among the nightingales. 
 
 In returning home, the railroad carriage was 
 almost full of barristers ; no wonder that the 
 conversation took a legal turn. I heard more 
 about the customs of diiferent courts of law, and 
 lawyers, and judges, and masters of the rolls, and 
 lord chancellors, than I had heard before for many 
 a day. "Oh!" said I to myself, after listening 
 for some time with great attention, and musing on 
 the losses and the crosses, the headaches and the 
 heartaches, brought about by law and chancery- 
 suits, " there may be great doubt about many 
 things ; but there can be no doubt about this, 
 that Old Humphrey is no longer among the 
 nightingales." 
 
 Not long had I entered the cab which conveyed 
 me from the railroad station to noisy Cheapside, 
 before a friend put a printed paper into my hand, 
 2 E 
 
314 OLD HUMPHREY 
 
 saying, " We have different talents lent to us, and 
 if I cannot write what may be useful, as some do, 
 I can distribute. The word of God says, * Blessed 
 are ye that sow beside all waters." 5 The latter 
 part of the paper ran thus : 
 
 "Friend, is the question on thy heart engraved, 
 ' What shall I do to be for ever saved ?' 
 Believe in Jesus, is the sole reply; 
 Believe in him, and thou shalt never die : 
 His precious blood gives pardon, life, and peace ; 
 Freedom from guilt, and joys that never cease." 
 
 " Come," thought I, " this is as it should be ; 
 Old Humphrey is so much in the habit of looking 
 up others, that he requires a little, nay, a great 
 deal of looking up himself/' So I folded up the 
 paper to be read with more attention another 
 time, saying to myself, " After all, though I arn 
 no longer among the trees and the brooks, the 
 flowers and the furze-bushes, yet am I, with a 
 grateful heart, in the best sense of the word, still 
 among the nightingales." 
 
 Reader ! no doubt you have your trials ; but 
 are you pondering God's word and doing God's 
 will? Are you trusting unreservedly in the 
 Redeemer, and casting your burdens on Him who 
 has promised to sustain them ? Are you grate- 
 fully enjoying and patiently enduring? Are you 
 looking onward hopefully and heaven-forward con- 
 fidingly ? Are you cheerfully making the best of 
 
AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES. 615 
 
 your position, whatever it may be, living in 
 peace with God, and in charity with all man- 
 kind ? If you are doing these things, or hum- 
 bly and heartily desiring to do them, whether 
 your coffer be full or your purse empty ; whether 
 you live in country or in town ; in an airy hall or 
 an unhealthy attic, you have cause to be cheer- 
 ful as a summer's day, and ought to rejoice as 
 heartily as Old Humphrey among nightingales. 
 
ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 
 
 HE who would be wise must be willing to receive 
 instruction from all quarters ; he must stoop for 
 it, look for it, listen for it, read for it, and reflect 
 for it. Practical wisdom embraces many points, 
 and among them the two following requirements 
 appear indispensable, namely, that we should un- 
 derstand when to go on, and know when to stop. If 
 the latter of these valuable attainments be yours, 
 reader, you have what many people stand in great 
 need of j for I think it may truly be said, that in 
 the manifold enterprises and undertakings of 
 mankind, where twenty know how to go on, not 
 more than one in the twenty knows when to stop. 
 
 Assuming that the above observation is true, I 
 will venture to illustrate it in different ways, no- 
 thing doubting, that should my reader be in as 
 good a temper while perusing my remarks, as I 
 now feel myself to be in while writing them, he 
 will derive from my paper some amusement, and, 
 possibly, a little instruction. 
 
 An old tale tells us that, in days gone by, a 
 certain knight-errant, perceiving a fair damsel on 
 the brink of a fearful precipice, and believing her 
 
ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 317 
 
 to be in danger, urged on his charger to the res- 
 cue with such inconsiderate speed, that being 
 utterly unable to arrest his wild career, horse, 
 knight, and fair lady were rudely plunged together 
 over the fatal precipice. 
 
 Without wasting time in investigating the cor- 
 rectness of this story, I will content myself in 
 observing that it clearly sets forth the truth, that 
 the best intentions in the world are not sufficient 
 to protect us from the sad effects of rashness and 
 iiiconsideration. Our knight knew when to go 
 on, but he did not know when to stop. Our best, 
 as well as our worst affections require restraint, 
 and without it they may produce the most lament- 
 able consequences. 
 
 " A poor woman complained to Mahmoud, 
 Chan of Tartary, who conquered Persia in the 
 tenth century, against a person who had mur- 
 dered her only son, in the province of Yrac, in 
 Persia. * How would you have me do justice at 
 such a distance?' said Mahmoud. 'Why did 
 you conquer countries which you cannot govern 
 at such a distance ? ' replied the unfortunate 
 mother." 
 
 This caustic rejoinder of the broken-hearted 
 
 woman ought to have gone to the heart of the 
 
 ambitious monarch, who knew well enough when 
 
 to go on for his own glory, but not when to stop 
 
 2E2 
 
318 ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 
 
 for the good of others. Whether Mahmoud pro- 
 fited by the widow's reply, or not, we cannot say; 
 but if you and I, reader, get a lesson from it, 
 the record of this popular anecdote will not have 
 been made in vain. 
 
 But perhaps it may be said, "What is the use 
 of going so high and haranguing about knights- 
 errant and sultans ? Why not come down to the 
 level of common life ? " There is reason and 
 good sense in such an objection. I will at once, 
 then, descend from my aspiring altitudes, and 
 bring forward a more familiar illustration. 
 
 A good-tempered man, at the head of a few 
 friends in a crowd, was endeavouring to make his 
 way to the door of a public room. " Push, 
 friends/ 5 said he, " for we are going on right." 
 They did push, and in so resolute a manner, that 
 he soon found himself as far beyond the door as 
 he before had been from it, so that it became 
 necessary to get back again. After a little jost- 
 ling to and fro, finding himself getting nearer 
 the open door, he once more cried out, "Push 
 again, friends, for we are going on right now." 
 Thus encouraged, they pressed forward with even 
 more determination than before ; indeed so much 
 so, that in a little time he found himself in the 
 very same spot tfyat he had occupied at first, 
 "Ah, my friends!" said he, "if we knew how 
 
ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 319 
 
 to stop half as well as we do how to go on, 
 we should have been through the door half an 
 hour ago." 
 
 Whether our intention be to enter a crowded 
 door, or to achieve any other object, some- 
 thing more than ardour will be wanting to 
 secure our end. An arrow may fail with over- 
 force, and again and again have I seen a gney- 
 hound at full speed fling himself over the hare he 
 intended to catch. The boy in the fable, cutting 
 open his goose to get at the golden eggs ; and 
 the bear, who smashed the face of his friend in 
 defending him from a fly, are both instances of 
 intemperate and irrepressible eagerness. 
 
 This valuable attainment of knowing when to 
 stop applies very forcibly to epicures, and all 
 who sinfully misuse their natural appetites. 
 "A little starveling rogue of a mouse had, with 
 much pushing application, made his way through 
 a small hole in a corn-basket, where he stuffed 
 and crammed so plentifully, that when he would 
 have retired the way he came, he found himself 
 too plump, with all his endeavours, to accomplish 
 it. A weasel, who stood at some distance, and 
 had been diverting himself with beholding the 
 vain efforts of the little fat thing, called to him 
 and said, ' Hark ye, honest friend ! if you have 
 a mind to make your escape, there is but one way 
 
320 ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 
 
 for it ; contrive to grow as poor and as lean as you 
 were when you entered, and then, perhaps, you 
 may get off.' " 
 
 How many an upright physician feels himself 
 bound to give his patient the very same prescrip- 
 tion as doctor Weasel gave the Mouse. There 
 are hundreds who injure themselves hy eating in- 
 ordinately : they go on with avidity and greedi- 
 ness, and know not when to stop : " Put a 
 knife to thy throat," says the wise man, "if thou 
 be a man given to appetite," Prov. xxiii. 2. 
 
 But if this recklessness be so common among 
 eaters, it is still more so among drinkers. Lord 
 Shaftesbury says, " A little treatise, published by 
 Mr. Porter, of the Board of Trade, shows that 
 the working classes spend annually in beer, 
 spirits, and tobacco, fifty millions." How much 
 of wassailing and excess, and how little of pru- 
 dence and self-control, must the expenditure of 
 these fifty millions involve ! And what loss of 
 character, health, and peace must have been 
 entailed on thousands ! 
 
 You may have heard of thoughtless speculators. 
 I knew one, who having cleared a sum of ten 
 thousand pounds by railroad shares, must needs 
 go on : he did do so, and soon lost every penny 
 he had realized. Hardly do I think that this is a 
 case more extraordinary than manv others. 
 
ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 321 
 
 Sportsmen are often as intemperate as specu- 
 lators. The Port Natal (African) newspaper has 
 the following statement : " In our last we omitted 
 
 to notice the return of Captain F , Royal 
 
 Artillery, and his companions, from the two 
 months' hunting expedition in the interior. From 
 the following catalogue of trophies, it will be seen 
 that the excursion has been one of no ordinary 
 character, either as regards the degree of excite- 
 ment and sport, or the amount in substantial value 
 of the game. The list, including a goodly array 
 of no contemptible antagonists, is as follows : 
 137 elephants, 42 buffaloes, 3-9 elands, 17 rhino- 
 ceroses, 1 lion, 8 koodoos, 1 hippopotamus, 7 
 wild boars, 1 leopard, 2 brindled gnoos, 10 net 
 bucks, 4 hart-beasts, and 1 wolf/ 5 
 
 Now what a cormorant in destruction must a 
 man be in shooting down among the victims of 
 his merciless onslaught, 42 buffaloes and 137 
 elephants ! 
 
 I have thus briefly applied my remarks to in 
 considerate ardour, ambition, pleasure, greediness, 
 wassailing, speculation, and sport ; but seeing 
 how easily I might have extended them to num- 
 berless other subjects, you may with advantage 
 do what I have left undone. Hardly, after what 
 you have read, will you question the correctness 
 of my opinion, that where twenty know when to 
 
322 ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 
 
 go on, not more than one in the twenty knows 
 when to stop. 
 
 But if there is among us such a propensity to 
 go forwards ; if we must go on, let it be in pur- 
 suits that will not be discreditable to us. Very few 
 people, if any, can be charged with excess in prayer, 
 or too much reading of their Bibles. Very few, 
 if any, manifest an extreme of zeal in praising 
 God, in forgiving those who have injured them, 
 or in helping a brother who has fallen into ad- 
 versity. In these things there is not so much 
 danger of intemperately going on, as there is of 
 holding back. Let us attend more to them, re- 
 solved to go on in every good word and work, and 
 to stop when we find ourselves giving way to vaip 
 thoughts, unreasonable desires, peevish complaints* 
 envy, hatred, rnalice, and uncharitableness. In a 
 word, let us, looking up through Christ to our 
 Heavenly Father for the indwelling of the Holy 
 Spirit to impart both inclination and abl ity, 
 
 Go on in every thing where good is found, 
 And stop when evil spreads its snares around. 
 
HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 
 
 IT was near the equestrian figure of king Charles 
 at Charing-cross that I passed three young men, 
 arm-in-arm. They were talking with much 
 earnestness on the subject which occupied their 
 attention ; and, as I passed, the remark was made 
 by one of them, " His is the freest pencil of any 
 man living. He has taken Fred. Rogers, and hit 
 him off capitally." 
 
 Who Fred. Rogers might be, I had no oppor- 
 tunity of knowing, nor was it with me a point 
 of importance. It was clear from what I had 
 heard that the trio had been speaking of some 
 rising artist, who had taken the likeness of some 
 one known to them, and admirably succeeded. 
 What struck me was the expression, he had " hit 
 him off capitally." 
 
 It is by no means an easy affair to hit off any 
 one capitally, either with the pencil or the pen ; 
 and say what we will of portraits, miniatures, 
 enamels, and daguerreotypes, the looking-glass 
 is the only correct representer of the human 
 figure and face. It gives, with all truthfulness, 
 
324 HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 
 
 form, expression, and colour. It neither adds rior 
 omits a beauty, nor a blemish. It is rigidly im- 
 partial, and faithful to a fault. 
 
 Often has it struck me, that if a mental mirror 
 could be invented, in which a man might see the 
 perfections and imperfections of his mind, as 
 clearly as a looking-glass reflects those of the 
 body, it would confer a great benefit on the world. 
 Then would the desire of the poet be fulfilled : 
 
 " Oh would some power the giftie gi' us 
 To see oursels as others see us 1 " 
 
 And then might we know a great deal more of 
 our own characters than we are ever likely to 
 know now. As, however, I am afraid this good 
 time is not yet coming, and that there is but little 
 likelihood of our having such a useful monitor 
 presented to us, we must, when it is necessary 
 or desirable to do so, hit one another off as well 
 as we can without it. Even if the mental mirror 
 were to be discovered, perhaps the greater diffi- 
 culty of prevailing on mankind to use it would 
 remain, for certain it is that few things are more 
 distasteful to us than that of being told of our 
 faults. It is this backwardness on our part to be 
 made acquainted with our errors that I want to 
 hit off in my present paper. 
 
 I know two elderly maiden ladies, Arabella 
 and Isabella, who are not without their good 
 
HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 325 
 
 qualities, though they certainly possess others of 
 an opposite kind. Among the errors into which 
 they have fallen is that of supposing that piety 
 and the habit of quoting texts of Scripture are 
 one and the same thing. Either they believe 
 this, or they are of opinion that others believe it ; 
 for, were it not so, they would never so injudi- 
 ciously, irreverently, and unblushingly introduce 
 passages from God's holy word so profusely in 
 * common conversation. Hardly is there any dif- 
 ference between them in point of delinquency : 
 
 An apple cleaves in twain, the separate parts 
 Are not more like than their two erring hearts. 
 
 But though all around them are aware of their 
 sad failing, and though they see it in each other, 
 they cannot see it in themselves. Some time ago 
 I was seated between them in a party, when a 
 clergyman made a few remarks in so excellent a 
 spirit on the reverent and irreverent uses of God's 
 holy word, that I could not but hope the ladies 
 in question would derive from them some advan- 
 tage. In this, however, I was quite disappointed, 
 for the one in a low tone of voice told me that 
 she hoped my right-hand friend would put on 
 the cap, as it would fit her to a hair ; while the 
 other soon after whispered me again that the 
 reverend gentleman was preaching at my left- 
 2 F 
 
326 HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 
 
 hand friend, and that he had hit her off capi- 
 tally. 
 
 In a certain town, the name of which I need 
 not mention, lived three neighbours, of widely 
 different characters. I shall take the liberty of 
 calling them Iddinson, Felton, and Furley. The 
 first an old miser, the second a sad tyrant in his 
 family, and the third an infatuated spendthrift. 
 Neither of these would, for a moment, have ad- 
 mitted himself to be the character he really was ; 
 for Iddinson called his parsimony, carefulness ; 
 Felton gave his tyranny the name of discipline ; 
 and Furley complimented himself by terming his 
 extravagance liberality. 
 
 A gratuitous lecture was given in the Town- 
 hall on the subject of "Men and Manners," in 
 the course of which the lecturer took occasion to 
 lash pretty freely the follies and vices of mankind. 
 Iddinson, Felton, and Furley were there, and if 
 each had applied to himself the remarks that 
 suited his case, all had been well ; but, instead of 
 this, they entered only into those that reproved 
 their neighbours. On arriving at their several 
 habitations, in expressing their opinion of the lec- 
 ture, old Iddinson said that Felton had had a 
 hard rap on the knuckles ; Felton would have it 
 that the lecture was as pat as if it had been 
 written on purpose for Furley ; and Furley de- 
 
HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 32? 
 
 clared that if old Iddinson was not now cured of 
 his pinching parsimony, nothing would cure him, 
 for the lecturer had shown him off capitally. 
 
 But think not that if I set forth the backward- 
 ness of others to perceive their failings, I myself 
 escape without reproof, for this is by no means the 
 case. A few Sundays ago, in returning from a 
 place of worship with a friend, I ventured to re- 
 peat a little of what we had heard, for it really 
 appeared to me to be what he needed. He re- 
 plied to me by repeating with some energy other 
 parts of the sermon, which he considered to be 
 equally applicable to myself; and I doubt not 
 that had his thoughts been embodied in words, 
 they might have been expressed thus, "Yes! 
 yes! Mr. Humphrey, I see, very clearly, what 
 you are driving at ; but, if I have my errors, 
 other people have theirs. You are no more like 
 snow than I am. The preacher could hardly 
 have been happier in some of his remarks, had 
 he been aiming at Old Humphrey, for, in my 
 opinion, he hit him oif capitally." 
 
 Seeing, then, that the error of being blind to 
 our own demerits is so common, that few, if any 
 can lay claim to the advantage of being altogether 
 free from it, a wiser course cannot be taken than 
 that of making head against it. Do your part 
 then, in an upright endeavour to be as quick in 
 
3*28 HE HIT HIM OFF CAPITALLY. 
 
 discovering your own faults, as you are in per- 
 ceiving those of your neighbours ; and I, in good 
 faith, will promise to do mine ; so that no one 
 shall say with truth, that I am wilfully oblivious 
 of my own errors, or that, without the exercise 
 of a kind motive and loving spirit, I ever attempt 
 with my tongue or my pen to hit off any one 
 capitally. 
 
THE DESOLATER OF A 
 FAIR WORLD. 
 
 As I mused on the beauty of this fair world, 
 and on the blessedness of men living in a state of 
 brotherhood, dark thoughts sprang up within me, 
 overshadowing the sunny spirit of my mind. 
 I mourned that violence and rapine had bestrode 
 the world as giants, and thus I gave utterance 
 to my emotions. 
 
 " War is an idol to which all nations have bowed 
 the knee, his crimson rites have been witnessed 
 on every soil, and millions of self-devoted victims 
 have been immolated at his shrine." Hearts 
 which should have beat in unison have glowed 
 with discord ; and hands that ought to have mi- 
 nistered mercy, have plunged the pointed steel 
 in a brother's bosom. Let us take a brief glance 
 around us at the wide-spread earth. 
 
 How has it been with France in arts and in 
 arms the first of foreign nations? How has it 
 been with Frenchmen a light-hearted, glory- 
 seeking people? Could he of Elba and St. 
 
330 THE DESOLATEH OF A FAIR WORLD. 
 
 Helena, whose dust is mouldering in the Hospital 
 of the Invalides could that soul of war and breath 
 of battles, the great Napoleon, speak, he might 
 tell of the thousands he had led to carnage, and 
 the millions who fell the victims to his restless 
 and insatiable ambition. Liberty-loving French- 
 men, by their eagerness to enslave others, have 
 built themselves a prison, surrounding their 
 capital with a wall of ramparts. Well may 
 Ridicule, with her pointed finger, scoff at the 
 self-imposed punishments of wild ambition. 
 
 Holland, with her ninety walled towns, has had 
 her share of strife ; and Belgium boasts of her 
 siege of Antwerp, and her battle of battles, called 
 Waterloo. There was heard the "thunder of 
 the captains and the shouting ;" there, indeed, 
 were the horse and his rider overthrown. 
 
 Spain proud, haughty, chivalric, gold-getting, 
 slave-holding, bull-fighting Spain has thy land 
 always been a land of peace ? Did the sway of 
 the Phoenician, the Carthaginian, and the Roman 
 begin and end without blood? Did the Goth, 
 the Vandal, and the Saracen never make thee a 
 theatre of war ? Did the crescent and the cross 
 never strive within thee for the mastery? Hast 
 thou forgotten the glittering standards of Charle- 
 magne, and the far-famed fight of Roncesvalles ? 
 Are the names of Alp-crossing Hannibal, and 
 
THE DESOLATES OF A FAIR WORLD. 331 
 
 Scipio, and Pompey, and Csesar erased from thine 
 annals ? Canst thou and Portugal ever forget 
 the flashing sabres, the bristling bayonets, and 
 the rolling artillery of the plains of Vimeira, the 
 heights of Corunna, the lines of Torres Vedras, 
 the siege of Salamanca, and the destructive thun- 
 ders of Trafalgar? 
 
 Denmark, Norway, and Sweden have known 
 the ravage of relentless war ; and their people, of 
 Scandinavian origin, though no longer bowing 
 down to Odin, Frid, and Thor, were always war- 
 riors. England was conquered by the Danes ; 
 Norway has sent forth her sanguinary heroes ; 
 and the " illustrious madman," Charles the 
 Twelfth of Sweden, will speak for his country 
 and for the vain delusions of hostile ambition. 
 
 " His fall was destined to a barren strand, 
 A petty fortress and a dubious hand: 
 He left the name at which a world turn'd pale, 
 To point a moral, or adorn a tale." 
 
 Switzerland, breezy and bright, spread with 
 heaven-aspiring hills, coldly glittering in the mid- 
 day beam ; 
 
 Thine, thine are the sharp-pointed cliffs that arise 
 
 Like a fairy creation of spires to the skies 
 
 The mountain that frowns with alluring alarms, 
 
 And the lake that entrances the world with its charms. 
 
 Land of the Mer de Glace and the awful ava- 
 lanche of Mont Blanc, and the Samaritan monks 
 
332 THE DESOLATER OF A FAIR WOULD. 
 
 of St. Bernard, have your hills never echoed the 
 voice of strife? Has crimson-footed war never 
 bestained your mountain snows ? Too often 
 have your valleys resounded with the death-shot 
 of your foes, and your bravest and your best been 
 stretched upon the plain. 
 
 And how has it been with Germany, with Austria, 
 with Prussia, and with Saxony ? From genera- 
 tion to generation these have been the battle- 
 fields of the earth. Here children are bred up 
 to war, manhood is inured to arms, and aged men 
 vaunt of their military deeds. The carnage of 
 Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Wagram, and of 
 Leipsic, are but scenes in the fearful tragedy of 
 ages. Even now these fair and fertile lands are 
 rife with arms, and bristling with glittering bay- 
 onets. When ! oh when will the sword be for 
 ever scabbarded, and war among the nations be 
 no more known ? 
 
 Egypt, with her idols, Osiris and Isis at their 
 head ; her long line of Pharaohs and Ptolemies ; 
 her pyramids, her temples, and her sphinxes ; 
 was of olden time famous for her horses and 
 chariots ; she was among the nations that de- 
 lighted in war. Nor in modern times has Egypt 
 been unvisited by the scourge of battles. Ask 
 what there is memorable in the annals of Egypt 'I 
 "The battle of Alexandria!" says an English 
 
THE DESOLATER OF A FAIR WORLD. 333 
 
 soldier, " when the French were defeated and Sir 
 Ralph Abercrombie fell." " The Battle of the 
 Pyramids!" exclaims a French soldier, "where 
 Murad Bey and his Mamelukes were beaten by 
 our musket vollies and our bayonets. Cairo 
 surrendered and Lower Egypt was conquered." 
 "The Battle of the Nile !" cries a British sailor, 
 "where the whole of the French line of battle- 
 ships were taken or destroyed, except two, and 
 Nelson rode triumphant in the seas." Thus 
 does hostile valour clamour for pre-eminence, as 
 though destruction were a glorious thing. 
 
 The history of Greece is a history of war, from 
 the shadowy annals of distant ages, to the more 
 distinct records of modern times. From Ther- 
 mopylse to Missolonghi, from Marathon to 
 Navarino, victories and defeats have followed 
 each other. Among the ancient heroes of Greece 
 were Leonidas and Epaminondas ; and among 
 her modern warriors, Collocotroni, Ypsilanti, and 
 Mario Botzarias. Hardly is there a spot of 
 ground in ancient or modern Greece, or indeed 
 along the winding margin of the Mediterranean 
 Sea, which has not been a scene of contention, a 
 theatre of some celebrated battle. 
 
 The very name of Rome is almost synonymous 
 with ravages, for the Romans were called the 
 conquerors of the world. Italy sent her warlike 
 
334 THE DESOLATER OF A FAIR WORLD. 
 
 sons on errands of destruction, and well did they 
 perform their sanguinary task. Carnage was 
 disregarded, courage almost adored, and the 
 horrors of war were hidden by the glory of con- 
 quest. Italy, many are thy sins ! 
 
 And what shall we say of China, with her 
 lengthened wall, that tells a tale of violent in- 
 cursions ? What of Russia, with her hordes of 
 Cossacks, her battle of Borodino, and Moscow in 
 flames ? And what of Persia, Afghanistan, and 
 Hindoostan, where myriads have fallen by the 
 desolating sword ? Long furrows have been 
 made by the rude ploughshares of war in 
 eastern lands ; and rapine, crime, and cruelty 
 have rivalled each other. The Pyramid of Skulls 
 of Aga Mohammed, and the vermin dungeon of 
 the Rajah of Bokhara, are but specimens of 
 eastern crime and barbarity. When will nations 
 be bound in the bond of brotherhood ? 
 
 The Old World is an extended stage, on which 
 the ambitious gladiators of mankind have tried 
 their strength ; with them the death- grapple has 
 been a familiar thing. How is it with the New 
 World ? Let us ask the Aborigines of the Mis- 
 sissippi and the Missouri. They are red men, 
 with painted faces, bending their bows and 
 brandishing their pointed spears ; head-dresses 
 of eagle plumes are theirs, with leggings of pen- 
 
THE DESOLATER OF A FAIR WORLD. 335 
 
 dant scalp-locks, and they are clothed in the 
 spoils of the buffalo and the shaggy bear. Let 
 us speak to them ; for they are too bold to evade 
 the truth, and have no motive to deceive. 
 
 " Draw near, ye sons of Shem, roamers of the 
 prairie, wanderers of the woods, and wielders of 
 the tomahawk what are the deeds ye have per- 
 formed?" 
 
 " We have hunted the buffalo, stripped the 
 hide from the bear, and fired the wigwams of our 
 enemy, tearing their scalps from their heads, and 
 plunging our spears in their hearts. With us 
 war is a delight, and revenge is virtue." 
 
 The conquest of South America is a blot on 
 the brow of humanity, for mercy was banished 
 from the hearts of the ruthless captors, and the 
 weak and defenceless were the victims of the ra- 
 pacious and the strong. Tears cannot wash 
 away the blood-red guilt of Spain. 
 
 And thus it has ever been with the nations of 
 this beautiful world, conspiring against each 
 other's peace, and rending each other's hearts in 
 feuds, blockades, and battles ; sieges, sea-fights, 
 and invasions. The red man, the Esquimaux, 
 the negro, the Hottentot, the Kaffir, the Hindoo, 
 and the Chinese, with all the civilized countries 
 of the globe, have quietly entered into ungodly 
 warfare, not only from " Dan to Beersheba," but 
 
336 THE DESOLATER OF A FAIR WORLD. 
 
 from England to Hindoostan, and from Copper- 
 mine River to Cape Horn ; white and coloured, 
 savage and civilized, all have wielded in anger 
 the weapons of warfare. The merciful man is 
 distressed, the Christian is sick at heart, at the 
 lawless violence of the world, and yearns for the 
 fulfilment of that peaceable prophecy, when " the 
 wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard 
 shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf and the 
 young lion and the fatling together ; and a little 
 child shall lead them. And the cow and the 
 bear shall feed ; their young ones shall lie down 
 together ; and the lion shall eat straw like the 
 ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole 
 of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his 
 hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not 
 hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain : for 
 the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the 
 Lord, as the waters cover the sea," Isa. xi. 6 9. 
 War is indeed the offspring of sin and a deso- 
 later of the world ; and we shall do well to regard 
 this guilt-stained earth as the rough path to a 
 better world ; clinging to the promise of everlast- 
 ing life given to us in Him who died for us and 
 rose again. Truly the kingdoms of the earth are 
 inseparable from sin, and discord, and sorrow ; but 
 the " kingdom of God is righteousness, and peace, 
 and joy in the Holy Ghost/' Rom. xiv. 17. 
 
SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 
 
 I AM about to present to my reader a few speci- 
 mens of human character, drawn from the life ; 
 for I cannot but think that character, when not 
 fancifully, but truthfully depicted, is among the 
 most interesting and the most instructive depart- 
 ments of literature. If there be any correctness 
 in the remark of the poet, 
 
 11 The proper sti'dy oi mankind is man ; " 
 
 then the faithful exhibition of human character 
 must be an advantage, both to the writer and the 
 reader. 
 
 I had once some slight acquaintance with a 
 bald-headed jester. Cheerfulness is a desirable 
 quality, and a sunny spirit of much greater value 
 than the Koh-i-noor ; but the light-hearted ri- 
 baldry of a careless old man is, indeed, a melan- 
 choly exhibition of human infirmity. So in- 
 veterate was his malady of unseemly mirth, that 
 everything called forth his gibes and his jokes. 
 He could find merriment in a bodily deformity, 
 2 G 
 
338 SKETCHES OF CHARACTER, 
 
 laugh at sickness and suffering, and point a jesc 
 at the skull thrown out of the new-made grave. 
 To the last he kept up his character, making a 
 joke with the doctor on his death -bed, and leav- 
 ing behind him the unenviable reputation of 
 having been a trivial old man, and a vain 
 jester. Infirm and sinful creatures as we are, 
 it becomes us to be forbearing and charitable, 
 and not given to severity in our judgment of 
 others; but we cannot contemplate such a cha- 
 racter as this, without a sense of aversion and 
 unfeigned regret. 
 
 I once knew a mighty man, if the word 
 mighty be proper to designate one of great 
 bodily and mental power. He was considered to 
 be one of the strongest men in the British army, 
 ' and as such was matched against a powerful 
 Frenchman. The Frenchman lifted a musket 
 from the ground at arm's length, holding by the 
 bayonet ; but he of whom I speak placed himself 
 between two muskets, lifting one with each hand, 
 in the same manner, at the same time. He 
 served on three "forlorn hopes," and was a giant 
 in oriental literature. At this moment I have a 
 learned work of his before me, in which the 
 English text is blended with Latin, Greek, 
 Arabic, and Persian. He bore the impress of 
 resolution and decision ; but, when I knew him, 
 
 
SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 331) 
 
 a holy influence was bridling his strong passions. 
 He was then turbulence in subjection, a whirl- 
 wind imprisoned ; yet still the character of his 
 mind and the formation and movements of his 
 body betokened a disposition to take things by 
 storm. He was one who would win his way 
 by force, and literally, if practicable, take earth 
 and heaven " by violence." When a man like this 
 becomes a simple child : when such a lion is 
 changed into a lamb, well may we say, " What 
 hath God wrought?" 
 
 To possess a command of language, and to be 
 able on every occasion to clothe the rising 
 thought and occurring circumstance in influential 
 words, is, doubtless, a great advantage ; but as 
 gold itself is lessened in value by its abundance, 
 so does rapid and redundant speech oftentimes 
 detract from the influence of the speaker. One 
 have I now in my memory, who in his conversa- 
 tion indulged in such a profusion of words, epi- 
 thets, allusions, similes, and quotations, that it 
 really required no common nerve to endure such 
 a tempest of the tongue. We have not always the 
 time to listen by the half- hour to a man pouring 
 out a flood of observations, and, besides, we most 
 of us like the opportunity of reply ; but there 
 was such a " prodigality of phrase," such an im- 
 petuous tide, nay, torrent of remark, in his com- 
 
340 SKETCHES OF CHARACTEK. 
 
 munications, that to attempt to make any re- 
 joinder to them was quite out of the question. 
 He appeared to have fallen into the error of sup- 
 posing that in conversation he had nothing to do 
 but to speak, and that his friends had nothing to 
 do but to listen. Never could I converse with 
 him without wondering that I got so little from 
 a man who spoke so much. Age is said, and I 
 am afraid with too much reason oftentimes, to be 
 garrulous ; the greater necessity then is there for 
 those of the gray hair to endeavour to avoid a 
 habit so unlovely : " The tongue of the just is 
 as choice silver," Prov. x. 20. 
 
 I was well acquainted in years gone by with 
 one who was the very opposite of the character 
 just described. With a heart full of kindness, an 
 ear ever ready to listen, and a mind accustomed 
 to reflect on what he heard, so silent was he, that 
 scarcely could he have been more so, had he 
 wished to show with what few words a man 
 might go through the world. I was once present 
 when two or three light-hearted young men, in a 
 frolic, formed the plot of reading, in the worst 
 way they could, some verses of an irascible poet, 
 whom they knew to be present. Such havoc did 
 they make of his poetry by improper pauses, 
 false accents, leaving out his happiest words, and 
 putting others in their places, that after a vain 
 
SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 341 
 
 struggle with his emotions, the bard, to the un- 
 governable mirth of his tormentors, broke out 
 into the most intemperate indignation. He 
 could not endure the trial of temper to which he 
 was subjected. Our taciturn friend was of a 
 different temperament, for I feel sure that had 
 they tried the same experiment on him, had they 
 even accused him of picking a man's pocket, he 
 would have allowed the accusation to pass in 
 silence, unless a direct appeal had been made to 
 him. I cannot recommend for imitation his ex- 
 treme silence, but I do recommend that meekness 
 of spirit which enabled him to bear unruffled 
 what would have inflamed most people with 
 anger. 
 
 In my earlier days I often visited one who, in 
 spring, summer, autumn, and winter, was con- 
 tinually foreboding evil. To one of a hopeful 
 and grateful spirit there was something shocking 
 in this uniform and systematic unthankfulness. 
 That heart must be in a sad state which sunshine 
 cannot enliven, nor mercies melt ; but this was 
 the case with hers of whom I speak. In health 
 she felt sure that affliction awaited her. In sick- 
 ness she was certain she should never recover. 
 No one knew her sorrows. Nobody had half 
 her troubles. In her poverty she looked forward 
 to die in a workhouse ; and when property had 
 
342 SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 
 
 surrounded her with comforts, the luxuries of 
 her richer neighbours embittered her peace. At 
 times the most cheerful spirit is cast down, and 
 the most grateful heart given to despondency ; 
 but hers was an enduring malady of discontent, 
 an inveterate, confirmed, and incurable leprosy of 
 unthankfulness, from which we have all reason to 
 pray to be delivered. 
 
 One of the rarest qualities to be found among 
 mankind is a submission to, and an acquiescence 
 in, the afflicting providences of our heavenly 
 Father. To read in the book of Job the words, 
 " Shall we receive good at the hands of God, and 
 shall we not receive ev.il?" Assenting to the 
 reasonableness of the inquiry is one thing ; but 
 to act out the lesson under the changeable cir- 
 cumstances of life is quite another thing : 
 
 Take all the boundless wealth that commerce pours, 
 Or grandeur piles up in its stately towers, 
 The gold that glitters and the gems that shine; 
 But let this priceless Christian grace be mine. 
 
 And well did I know one who set a bright 
 example of confidence in God, in sorrow and in 
 suffering. Many can see Divine wisdom and love 
 in the afflictions of others, but he saw them in 
 his own. His reliance was the same when he 
 abounded, and when he was stripped bare ; when 
 health hurried through his swelling veins, and 
 when sickness brought him low even unto death. 
 
SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 3^3 
 
 His was the submission and abiding faith of a 
 renewed heart, and he faltered not in the trying 
 hour. 
 
 There is in the characters I have drawn some- 
 thing to imitate and something to avoid ; would 
 that I had always seen them in the light in which 
 I now regard them, for then might my youth 
 have derived the advantage my age is now anxious 
 to secure. What a golden harvest of good might 
 be reaped by us all, if, after regarding the charac- 
 ters of those around us, we more frequently than 
 we do contemplated His character who came from 
 the mansions of the blessed, took upon him our 
 human nature, and, knowing no sin, oifered up 
 himself a sacrifice for sinners, that they might not 
 perish, but, believing in Him, might have everlast- 
 ing life. How meek and lowly we might become ! 
 how deep might be our self-humiliation ! how warm 
 our love, and how ardent our gratitude and praise ! 
 
CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 
 
 WITH a thoughtful brow, reflecting on the past, 
 the present, and the future, I regarded the di- 
 versified occupations of my fellow men. A 
 kindly spirit came over me, as I followed the 
 children of Labour, Commerce, Science, Law, 
 Physic, and Divinity, in their varied pathways. 
 
 The sons of labour were unceasing in their 
 employments. Some were seen in the smoke 
 and din of the factory and workshop ; sorae 
 toiled in the mine and the mill; some endured 
 the heat of the forge and the furnace ; some 
 strove lustily at the hammer and the anvil ; some 
 busied themselves amid ponderous wheels, mighty 
 levers, and the stroke of the engine beam ; some 
 laboured to the click of the power-loom, and 
 some tended the tearing whirl of the rapidly 
 revolving spindle. What mighty deeds, both in 
 ancient and modern times, has labour performed ! 
 Ye sons of labour, take heart amid your toil, 
 
 And bare your lusty arms, and blithely sing, 
 While whirling wheels revolve anc anvils ring. 
 
CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 345 
 
 The followers of commerce were far from idle, 
 as might be seen by the busy Custom-house, 
 the crowded Exchange, counting-houses filled 
 with clerks, and warehouses piled with stores. 
 Many were their outward-bound ships, carrying 
 out linens, stuffs, calicoes, hardware, and other 
 goods ; and homeward-bound vessels freighted 
 with wool, cotton, and corn ; sugar, tea, and 
 spices ; with pines from Norway and Sweden ; 
 hides and tallow from Russia ; fruit and spices 
 from the West Indies ; cork and wine from Portu- 
 gal, and gold from Australia and California. 
 Commerce has found a pathway across the world 
 of waters, bound together distant people, diffused 
 comforts and luxuries over the wide-spread earth, 
 and prepared the way for the word of the Most 
 High. Ye followers of commerce, success attend 
 your sails ! 
 
 Fair breezes, azure skies, and wide command, 
 And golden argosies from every land. 
 
 The lovers of science were absorbed in their 
 varied pursuits, some in mathematics, geometry, 
 and optics ; some in navigation, magnetism, and 
 the exciting wonders of electricity.. The me- 
 chanic was engaged in the formation of compli- 
 cated machines ; the chemist was busy with his 
 acids and his alkalies, his furnaces and retorts ; 
 and the astronomer was lost in the contemplation 
 
346 CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 
 
 of unnumbered worlds, whose distances defied 
 his powers of calculation. What wonders has 
 science performed ! It has outstripped the wind 
 in speed ; formed a road beneath the mighty 
 depths of the sea ; made the sunbeam its mini- 
 stering servant, and called down the lightning 
 from the stormy clouds. If such have been its 
 past performances, who shall circumscribe its 
 future achievements ? 
 
 Ye lovers of science, lose not sight of utility, 
 so shall ye make the hard easy, and the un- 
 pleasing pleasant ; expand our views, increase 
 our powers, improve our taste, add to our enjoy- 
 ments, and bid comfort and economy go hand in 
 hand together. 
 
 The graceful and the useful shall abound, 
 And widely spread unnumber'd comforts round. 
 
 The students of literature were actively em- 
 ployed in the private study and the public library. 
 Time-worn manuscripts, books in black letter, 
 and volumes in all languages were being read. 
 Here transcribers and translators patiently perse- 
 vered in their undertaking ; and there authors in 
 prose and verse plied their pens, some pandering 
 to the follies and vices of mankind, and some 
 imbued with the highest and the holiest aspira- 
 tions. From the booksellers a flood of varied 
 
CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 317 
 
 volumes was poured forth. Quartos and folios 
 were few ; but books of other sizes, with 
 pamphlets, periodicals, and papers, were alto- 
 gether innumerable. History, biography, travels, 
 sermons, with publications of lighter literature, 
 formed only a part of the vast abundance. The 
 literary assemblage was ideally before me. There 
 they were, authors, editors, reviewers, and pub- 
 lishers ; and the giant printing press, with its 
 hundred hands, was distributing its myriads of 
 miscellaneous publications. Ye students of lite- 
 rature, pursue wisdom and truth, and seek for 
 high and holy influences ; so may your works 
 
 From error's chain emancipate the mind, 
 And aid, inform, improve, and bless mankind. 
 
 The disciples of law were no wanderers in 
 flowery pathways, but patient plodders in unat- 
 tractive pursuits. They studied the common, 
 the statute, and the civil law. Some pleaded in 
 the Court of Queen's Bench, some in the Ex- 
 chequer, some in the Common Pleas, and some 
 in the Court of Chancery. I surveyed them 
 at my leisure on the bench, at the bar, and in 
 the office. What tiers of tin boxes, and what 
 piles of labelled parchments were before my eyes ! 
 The engrossed sheep-skins appeared endless. 
 Truly they had a world to do with their Acts of 
 
3-18 CALLINGS AND PEOFESSIONS. 
 
 Parliament, leases and mortgages, articles, in- 
 dentures, contracts, conveyances, and arbitrations. 
 There were title deeds to be preserved, marriage 
 settlements to be executed, debts to be demanded, 
 warrants to be put in force, actions to be brought, 
 and wills to be signed, sealed, delivered, and wit- 
 nessed. What a day will that be for civilized 
 society, when law, purged of its anomalies, shall 
 become simple, pure, effectual, and inexpensive ! 
 When will that day arrive ? Ye disciples of law, 
 be it yours, 
 
 For uprightness to gain a wide renown ; 
 
 To guard the weak, and pull the oppressor down. 
 
 The practitioners of physic and surgery were 
 not behind others in the zeal with which they 
 pursued their profession. Some were heartless 
 quacks, practising on the credulity of the weak- 
 minded and afflicted, and, as it were, " hunting 
 for the precious life ;" while others were good 
 men and true, loving to mitigate the misery that 
 applied to them for relief. I saw the whole 
 host of medical professors, with their prescrip- 
 tions, medicines, pills, and potions, forcepses, 
 lancets, knives, tourniquets, and bandages. They 
 had weakness to build up ; plethora to dimi- 
 nish ; fractures to reduce ; wounds to heal, and 
 cancers to cure. Great was the throng of pa- 
 
CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 349 
 
 tients awaiting their visitations, for endless are 
 the ailments of suffering humanity. They were 
 expected to remove the shiverings of ague ; the 
 hollow cough of consumption ; the rapid pulse of 
 fever; the horrors of delirium tremens, and the 
 phrenzy of madness. Honour to him who up- 
 rightly pursues the art of healing ; a life of use- 
 fulness, a peaceful end, and a bright hope of a 
 happy immortality. Ye practitioners of physic, 
 neglect not the afflicted poor : 
 
 Pour balm into their wounds, assuage their fears, 
 And drive away their pains, and grief, and tears. 
 
 The professors of divinity were manifold, 
 varied in demeanour, attainments, and attire; but 
 all professing to be His disciples, who came 
 among us to seek and to save that which was 
 lost all taking on them to be leaders of the 
 blind, and pointers out of the path to heaven. 
 The house of God, the hospital, and the sick 
 chamber were their battle-fields, wherein they 
 achieved their victories. Some with lawn sleeves 
 were occupied in cathedrals ; some in gowns were 
 preaching in parish churches ; some in plain 
 clothes were praying in meeting-houses ; and 
 others were acting as missionaries, standing 
 under cocoa-nut trees, or palm-trees, driving 
 away the darkness of the heathen, by diffusing 
 
350 CALLINGS AND PROFESSIONS. 
 
 abroad the light of the gospel of peace. Oh 
 blessed employment to " preach good tidings unto 
 the meek, to bind up the broken-hearted, to pro- 
 claim liberty to the captives, and to comfort all 
 that mourn !" Ye professors of divinity ! Ye 
 ministers of the glorious gospel of peace, be it 
 yours still to be the servants of the Most High, 
 
 To acknowledge his goodness, and ponder his word, 
 And to love and delight in the law of the Lord. 
 
 Oh that all worldly callings, purified from sel- 
 fishness, envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitable- 
 ness, were carried out in the spirit of the gospel ; 
 and that all who followed them were influenced by 
 that faith in Christ which worketh by love. But 
 what are the best earthly avocations compared to 
 the blessedness of heavenly employments ? Re- 
 joice, Christian, in the prospect that is before thee : 
 "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant 
 mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope 
 by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 
 to an inheritance incorruptible," 1 Pet. i. 3, 4. 
 Look onwards hopefully and confidingly ; soon wilt 
 thou be among the " shining ones ;" soon will 
 
 Thy life be freed from sin's defiling leaven, 
 And earth he changed for happiness and heaven. 
 
 London : Printed by William Tyler, Bolt-court. Fleet-street. 
 
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